


To the Light and the Thunder

by narcissablaxk



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Feelings Realization, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, S2 Canon Divergence, Sexuality Crisis, Sexuality Revelation, Torisha, ish?, larusso, slow burn?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26361466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: Aisha confides in Sensei Lawrence a secret she's never told anyone else. Could her secret inspire one of his own?OrIn which Johnny helps Aisha get the girl, and Johnny realizes that he'd like to get the guy.
Relationships: Aisha Robinson/Tory Nichols, Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 204
Kudos: 752





	1. Chapter 1

The end of class was Johnny’s favorite time of the day. He would lean against the doorway to his office, watching his students mill around the door, putting their shoes on, shouldering their backpacks, taking their sweet time leaving because they didn’t really want to go. It pulled him gently back to the 80s, when he and Bobby would do the same thing, because Dutch and Jimmy and Tommy always took forever to get dressed. 

These kids _wanted_ to be here, he seemed to realize every time he did this, every single class. Miguel would always look back and lift a hand in farewell before he ducked through the door and made it back out onto the orange sidewalk, colored brightly by the fading sun. 

Hawk didn’t wave – it wasn’t his way. But Johnny was making an effort, especially after Kreese was deposed and removed, to treat Hawk with the same compassion he did Miguel, so every now and then, he would catch Hawk’s hurried glance back at him before he left. 

The other kids slowly followed the two alphas of the class, their chatter dying away to a quiet buzz that Johnny enjoyed floating in after all of the yelling and overlapping conversations of the last two hours. Except today was different. 

“Sensei?” Now that he heard her voice, Johnny realized he hadn’t, in fact, seen Aisha leave with everyone else. She was still standing by the edge of the mat, near the bathrooms. Had she been hiding out there while everyone else got ready to leave? 

“What’s up, Miss Robinson?” he asked, taking in her nervous stance, so different from the way she usually held herself. Her fingers were fiddling with the strap of her backpack, slung haphazardly over her shoulder. 

She grimaced like he had yelled at her – Johnny took a step back and to the left to let her follow him into his office. She hesitated near the chair, and the hand around her backpack fidgeted faster, fast enough that he almost wished he could yell _“quiet”_ and stop the anxious fiddling. 

“I – I just –” she opened her mouth and then snapped it shut again, her eyes searching the room and seeing nothing, looking for the right words. “I just wanted to – to talk to you about something.” 

“If it’s about Miyagi-do –”

“No, it’s not about them,” Aisha waved it off. “But the truce was a good idea.” 

He gave her a smug half-smile. It hadn’t been his idea, but he’d gladly take the credit. “Then what’s this about?” he asked. “Sit down.” 

She didn’t sit down, but dropped her backpack into the seat in her place. “You give Miguel advice all the time, right?” 

He shrugged one shoulder. “I try to.” 

She looked around the room, as if she’d never seen it before. 

“Do you need advice?” he asked, trying to be patient, to offer something softer than what he usually had to give. 

“I think…” she started, and then shook her head and started again. “I know.” 

“You know that you need advice?” he couldn’t keep the chuckle out of his voice. “Well, I’m sure whatever is bugging you can be –”

“I’m gay.” 

“Oh,” he said, his mind immediately scrambling for the correct response. He was suddenly aware that if he didn’t say the right thing now, he might permanently hurt Aisha’s feelings. But he was bad at knowing what to say! What was the protocol for when someone comes out to you? _Great? I know? That’s wonderful?_ “That’s…great?” 

“Is it?” she asked, and there was a hint of a smile on her face now, and Johnny felt relief wash over him at the sight of it. 

“Yes?” he asked. “Isn’t it?” 

She shrugged. “I haven’t told anyone yet.” 

But she told _him._ He grinned at her now, a full smile that she took in with a relieved sigh. “Does this mean you need chick advice?” 

She covered her face with her hands and laughed, the same loud, unapologetic laugh he’d heard her do with Hawk and Miguel. “I do not need girl advice,” she clarified, and shoved her backpack off the chair to sit in it, the nervous energy in her stance gone. “I just wanted to tell someone.” 

“I am glad you told me,” he said sincerely. 

“I know you are,” she replied.

He wondered if she really understood how glad he was. She knew him well enough to know that he loved Whitesnake and Coors Banquets, but did she know him well enough to know that all he really wanted from his students was their trust, so he wouldn’t betray it? And here she was, putting her trust completely in his outstretched hands, a closely held secret that felt like a reward. 

“How did you know?” he asked after a while. “That you’re gay.” 

She shrugged, but her eyes were looking at something far away. “You know how everyone tells you that you’ll just find the right person someday?” she asked. “I always thought that was just some teen movie high school bullshit, but, you know, there’s Sam and Miguel, who really seemed to just…get each other. And I’ve known plenty of people, but I’ve never felt that way about anyone.” 

He nodded. He understood that feeling. He was pretty sure he knew it – he thought Ali was going to be his right person, and then they broke up, and their differences and misunderstandings had been thrown into such great relief that he realized they were never really right for each other after all. And here he was, fifty years old, still missing a piece everyone told him he should have found by now. 

“And then some guy at school asked me on a date,” she continued. “And it was fun, but it never felt like anything more than hanging out with a friend. He was so mad when he tried to kiss me and I moved out of the way –”

“What did you say his name was?” 

She laughed. “I handled it, Sensei.” 

“Right, of course,” Johnny smirked proudly. 

“And then I went to the beach club with one of my female friends, and the whole time I thought, you know, this could feel like a date. This could be a date.” 

He leaned forward in his chair. “Who was it?” 

“What?” 

“Who was the friend?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Do I know her? Is she hot?” 

“Oh my _God,_ Sensei!” 

***

Johnny was still thinking about Aisha when he pulled up to Miyagi-do half an hour later. His usual habit was to wait for Robby in the car, to spare both Robby and Daniel the awkwardness of his presence in their dojo. But today, he turned off the car and pushed the door open, gravel crunching under his shoes as he made his way to the gate that led to the backyard. 

Robby was in a little pond near the back fence, a bonsai in his arms. Across from him, Daniel held an almost identical bonsai. They set it on a little wooden platform at the same time, adjusting minutely without speaking. 

He crossed his arms and watched. 

His son’s connection to Daniel LaRusso still ached, like a deep wound that had closed over but never truly healed, but sometimes it felt like this – a soft burn that reminded him that Robby deserved to have a mentor, and he deserved to have a father – Johnny didn’t have to be both. He only had to be one. 

And surely Daniel LaRusso was a better mentor to his son than Kreese had been to him. 

After watching for long enough that Johnny felt like he was intruding, he spoke. “I thought you were learning karate, not landscaping.”

To their credit, neither Daniel nor Robby jumped. Robby just turned to see his father over his shoulder. “Hey, Dad.” 

“Johnny.” 

“LaRusso,” Johnny said back, matching Daniel’s ambivalent tone. He walked up to the side of the pond and offered Robby his hand. He felt a swooping sensation in his stomach with Robby took it and allowed him to pull him out of the pond, depositing him on the soft grass beside him. He turned his gaze to Daniel. “Need a hand?” 

Daniel gave him a momentary glare that held no actual heat before Johnny stepped toward him, holding out his hand in an insistent offering. 

“Come on, I’m in a good mood, don’t ruin it,” he chastised Daniel when he didn’t take it. 

“Fine,” Daniel rolled his eyes and Johnny pulled him up and out of the pond, his other hand grabbing Johnny around the elbow to stabilize himself. “Thank you.” 

“No problem, princess,” Johnny said. “Ready to go, kid?” 

Robby gave him a nod, and jogged off toward the house to gather his stuff, leaving Daniel and Johnny alone in the garden. He used the silence to take in the whole place, everything in just the right spot, the plants and gravel and carefully placed stones both communicating somehow serenity and control. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been back here,” Johnny said. 

Daniel, who had turned away from him and was picking up his shoes from the side of the pond, looked back at him, the sun in his eyes. From there, he could almost be a teenager again, except for the lines around his eyes that told decades worth of stories. 

“No, you haven’t,” he said thoughtfully, as if his mind were somewhere else. “Hey, I was going to make dinner, and Sam and Anthony are with their mother today. Do you and Robby want to stay for dinner?” 

Johnny tried not to gape at him, but he wasn’t sure he really succeeded. “Uhh…” he stammered as Robby came bounding of the house. “I – um, well –”

“What’s going on?” Robby asked, looking worriedly between his father and his mentor. 

Daniel gave Johnny a cheeky smile before turning to Robby. “I was just asking if you and your dad wanted to stay for dinner.” 

“Really?” Robby asked incredulously. 

Johnny barked a laugh. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid.” 

Daniel rolled his eyes but he was still smiling. “Come on, I’m putting my foot down. My dojo, my rules. Get in the house.” 

***

Aisha liked evenings at her house after Cobra Kai trainings. She was pleasantly tired, her muscles burned, and her parents had eaten dinner before she got home, so she was free to eat in her room while she did her homework. It should sound lonely, but sometimes, she wanted the quiet. 

And then, sometimes, Tory would call during her breaks at the roller rink. Aisha would leave her computer on and open, waiting patiently for the call. Sometimes, if the rink was too busy, it wouldn’t come, and she would close the laptop before she went to bed in disappointment. But most days, she was lucky. 

She was halfway through her history homework when her computer chimed, and Tory’s picture appeared on the display. 

She checked her reflection in the mirror near her closet before accepting the call. 

“Hey!” Tory’s voice was always too loud, compensating for the sound at the rink. 

“How’s the rink?” 

“Slow,” Tory said with a wrinkled nose. “Fewer tips but more time to talk.” She batted her eyelashes at the camera, and Aisha wondered, not for the first time, if she was doing that on purpose, being that beautiful.

Aisha smiled. “At least you don’t have to worry about any more of those college assholes coming by to try to grab your ass.” 

“You know what happens to guys like that –”

“ _No mercy_ ,” they both finished together. Tory laughed, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I wish you could be here,” she continued. “Do your homework at a table or something so we could hang out in person. Having a job is murder on your social life.” 

“I could do that,” Aisha said, too quickly. 

Immediately she wanted to punch herself. What the hell was she doing? She told one whole person she was gay and now here she is, broadcasting her gayness. The last thing she wanted to do was make Tory uncomfortable, especially if she wasn’t into girls. But Tory looked pleased rather than freaked out, and after a few moments, the uneasiness melted away. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at the rink,” Tory pointed out. “Do you not like skating?” 

Aisha grimaced. “I’m not a good skater,” she said. “It’s embarrassing.” 

Tory shook her head. “I’m sure you’re not. Maybe I’ll teach you one day. I’ll be your skating sensei.” 

“That would be fun,” Aisha answered, even though her stomach was doing flip-flops at the idea of embarrassing herself in front of Tory. 

But Tory’s eyes weren’t on her anymore, but on someone beyond her phone. “I’m sorry, Aisha, I have to go. We just got a huge table of kids.” 

“It’s fine,” Aisha waved her off. “Get those tips!” 

“You know it!” Tory grinned. “See you tomorrow!” 

Aisha stared at the computer screen long after Tory was gone, going over the conversation. She felt giddy, like she had gone on a roller coaster. She always felt like that after she talked to her – initially she thought she was intimidated by her. It wasn’t until they had walked around the beach club, Tory’s arm slung over her shoulder, that she realized she wasn’t afraid of Tory at all. 

She wished, suddenly, that she had used that explanation when Sensei Lawrence asked her how she knew she liked girls. Talking to a person you like should feel like you’re on a roller coaster. 

***

Johnny expected dinner to be uncomfortable. He expected Robby to awkwardly carry the conversation while he and Daniel half-heartedly tried to contribute. What he didn’t expect was to be drafted immediately into helping Daniel cook dinner while Robby and Daniel recounted their training, where they managed to finally teach Demetri (he had to be reminded that they were, in fact, talking about the mouthy one) how to block. 

“Just cut up the onion, Johnny,” Daniel told him, pressing the knife into his hand. “It’s not that hard.” 

“Dad doesn’t cook often,” Robby pointed out, dodging the piece of onion Johnny flung in his direction. 

“Shut up, snitch,” Johnny shot back over his son’s laughter. “I cook plenty of things.” 

Daniel raised an eyebrow at him from his position at the stove, a smirk just barely pulling his lips up. Johnny glared at him, the onion in his hand starting to slip away. 

“What’s that face for, LaRusso?” he asked. 

Daniel’s smirk turned into an innocent smile. “I have no idea what you mean, Johnny,” he said, stirring the sausage in the pan. “I’m just enjoying the stories.” 

“Enjoying the stories?” Johnny repeated, returning his eyes to the onion. “Collecting information to use against me later?” 

Daniel shrugged. “It’s nice to hear stories about you being a normal person,” he said truthfully. “It’s surprising.” 

“Surprising that I’m a _person_?” Johnny asked, flinging a piece of onion skin at the side of Daniel’s head. “Come on, LaRusso, you can do better.” 

“You are the _worst_ –” Daniel peeled the onion skin off his cheek and threw it back, “the worst _sous chef_ I’ve ever had, and one time Anthony covered all of the carrots in peanut butter because he didn’t want me to cook them.” 

Robby, who was setting the table, cackled, the laughter infecting both of the adults at the stove. 

And then Aisha’s words came back to him: _This could be a date._

The understanding that washed over him suddenly took him by surprise. This – with Daniel laughing while he cooked, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose, Robby setting the table – this could be a family dinner. 

He fumbled the knife, feeling the skin of his index finger part more than he felt the pain of the blade, and then the laughter came to an abrupt halt. 

Daniel was by his side in a second, directing Johnny to the sink, where he pulled the white towel off of his shoulder and pressed it Johnny’s finger. It was the press of his hand that reminded Johnny that cutting your finger with a knife hurt, and he hissed at the pain, feeling rather than seeing Daniel look up at him worriedly. 

“It’s fine, LaRusso, go back to cooking,” he muttered. 

But Daniel stubbornly held on, so close Johnny could feel the warmth of his body. “Johnny, you’re bleeding.” 

“That’s what happens when you cut yourself, dummy,” he said, gently pulling his hand free from Daniel’s. “I’ve got it.” 

He looked up and met Daniel’s gaze, close enough that he felt almost a primal urge to step back even while his brain quietly encouraged him to step closer. 

“You’ll feel worse if you burn your food,” he reminded him. 

That seemed to make an impression. Daniel gave him one more look before retreating back to the food, leaving Johnny and Robby to bandage up the cut on his finger, neither of them speaking, Johnny lost in thoughts that he hadn’t had to wade through since 1984. 

_Shit._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is having their own sexuality crisis in this fic, lads. Saddle up.

Johnny didn’t know who to talk to. Before, when Robby still hated his guts and he was barely getting his feet underneath him at the dojo, he could only talk to Miguel about things. Those days felt simpler – Miguel would come over and Johnny would put in some 80s movie the kid had never seen and he’d suffer through Miguel’s constant questions, grinning behind his Coors. 

When the movie was over, they’d talk about nothing, spanning memories and questions, girls and life. But now Miguel didn’t come over as often, because he and Robby were still a little tentative around each other, and Johnny didn’t want his son to feel excluded. 

Which meant he could only suffer in silence, trying to process his sudden rush of feelings for Daniel goddamn LaRusso. He couldn’t talk to Robby – that would be incredibly awkward. He couldn’t talk to Miguel, and he certainly wasn’t going to talk to Daniel. That idea alone made him want to crawl under his bed and never come out. 

Their dinner a few days before had been surprisingly fun, even with a bulky bandage on Johnny’s index finger. Robby had made jokes, Johnny and Daniel had laughed, and Daniel’s eyes would meet Johnny’s over the table, the falling sun just barely catching them behind his glasses, and Johnny was breathless. 

Which was a fucking problem, because he usually made fun of LaRusso, usually had shit to say, but he was curiously quiet, which meant Daniel stopped him on his way to the car, hand on Johnny’s arm, all sweet concern, eyes big behind his glasses. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he’d asked, hand still on Johnny’s arm, burning into his skin. 

He didn’t move – he felt like he even looked stiff. “I’m fine, LaRusso,” he tried to reassure him. “Really.” 

“You’re just – you’re usually more of an asshole,” Daniel admitted. 

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Goodbye, LaRusso.” 

He straightened his gi and listened to the sound of his students warming up. He needed to get LaRusso out of his head; he needed to focus, to teach. But he found himself wondering, almost absently, when he’d manage to see him again without seeming weird. Could he just…do what he did a few days ago? Get out of his car and make easy conversation? 

Suddenly it didn’t seem so simple. 

Class rushed by in a blur – Johnny was both present and far away, not so distracted that Miguel was giving him that wide-eyed look that reminded Johnny of a baby cow, but distracted enough that when class ended, Hawk’s wave back at him shook him free of a long reverie he hadn’t realized he was in. 

He waved back, trying to sear Hawk’s pleased look into his memory forever, and caught sight of Aisha by the door, slipping her shoes on. 

“Miss Robinson,” he called out, the solution suddenly so obvious. “Stick around, please.” 

Miguel furrowed his brow at him from the doorway, but didn’t speak. Aisha looked up, her shoelaces still in her hands, and nodded. 

“What’s going on, Sensei?” she asked, and Johnny didn’t speak. He was trying to decide if he’d lost his nerve, if he didn’t want to end this conversation before it started. Aisha stepped closer, one hand on her backpack, and waved her hand in front of his face. “Hello. Earth to Sensei?” 

“So…” he said, pretending poorly that he wasn’t nervous. “How are your girl troubles?” 

“I – I don’t have girl troubles,” Aisha said tentatively. “I just…have a crush.” 

“Uh huh,” Johnny said, tilting his head at her. “And how’s that?” 

“It’s the same,” she said slowly, a smile spreading over her face. “It’s only been two days.” 

“But what are you going to do about it?” Johnny asked, turning away from Aisha to walk back toward his office. Aisha toed off her shoes and followed. “Gonna ask her out? Stand under her window with a boombox?” 

“With a what?” 

“With an Apple…phone?” 

She laughed. “Sensei, having a crush on someone of the same gender is hard. Especially if you don’t know their sexuality. I can’t just…ask her out. If she doesn’t like girls, I’ve messed up the friendship forever.” 

“Yeah, isn’t that the same with asking out boys?” 

“Except if you get rejected by someone of the opposite sex, everyone forgets. If you get rejected by someone of the same sex, then you look creepy _and_ everyone will make fun of you for getting rejected and for being gay.” 

He furrowed his brow, the logic virtually infallible from his position. “That’s…terrible.” 

She nodded, crossing her arms. “It’s easy to assume someone is straight since everyone seems to think that’s the default. But once you’re anything other than straight, asking people out becomes really scary.” 

“You’re telling me.” 

She blinked, paused, then blinked again. Johnny had the sneaking feeling that he said something wrong. She leaned forward in her chair and fixed him with an all-too-intelligent glare. “What do you mean, ‘you’re telling me’?” 

He floundered. Shit, shit, shit, that was exactly what he shouldn’t have said. “I meant…yeah, I understand.” 

She pursed her lips like she didn’t believe him. “Uh huh.” She surveyed him closely, puzzle pieces gathering themselves before her eyes and fitting together. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” she asked. 

“Not necessary,” he said, a tad more dismissively than he meant. But Aisha just nodded and didn’t say anything. 

***

“I had a weird conversation with Sensei today,” Aisha said, holding out a chicken nugget for Miguel to take, another one in her other hand for Hawk. They both took them and passed her a mozzarella stick and a jalapeno popper as a trade. 

“Yeah, what was that about?” Miguel asked, setting down his phone on the table. “He’s never kept you after class before.” 

She hadn’t planned on telling her friends like this, but she felt curiously, since she told Sensei Lawrence that she was gay, that she wanted to tell other people. She wanted to tell her friends, who she knew would be supportive. It was a rush, being open and honest with people, a bigger rush than the butterflies she got before she said the words. 

“Okay, well,” she said, taking a sip of her lemonade. “I should probably tell you both that I’m gay.” 

Hawk paused in his chewing. “Dude, sweet,” he said, holding out his fist for her to bump. 

Miguel grinned at her. “I’m glad you told us,” he said. He leaned forward, almost against the table. “If it helps, we’re both bi.” 

“Cobra Queer,” Hawk said with a mouth full of food. 

She laughed, the elated rush of honesty making her feel lighter than air, and high-fived her friend. 

“But what does that have to do with Sensei?” Miguel asked. 

“Well, I stayed after class the other day to, well, tell him –”

“Oh shit, was he cool about it?” Hawk asked, a worried furrow in his brow. “He seems like he could be…” He didn’t finish.

“He was great,” Aisha reassured him. “He was really happy for me. But I talked to him about this…girl I liked –”

“Don’t tell me it’s Sam,” Miguel blurted. “I can’t take any more competition on that front.” 

She snorted. “It’s not Sam.” 

“Whew,” Miguel wiped his brow. “Continue.” 

“But he asked me how I knew I was gay,” she said. “And then today he kept me after class to ask me about my crush, and what I was going to do about it, when I was going to ask her out.” 

“That sounds like Sensei,” Hawk said knowingly. “Strike first.” 

“Yeah, and then, when I tried to explain to him that it’s hard to ask out someone of the same gender because you don’t know their orientation, he said, and I quote, ‘you’re telling me.’” 

Miguel furrowed his brow. “Wait –”

“Right –”

“Did he say it like ‘oh haha I get what you mean?’” Miguel asked. “Or did he say it like ‘I’ve definitely tried to ask out a dude before’?” 

Aisha shrugged. “It was…weird.” She took a bite of her mozzarella stick. “He seemed kind of…embarrassed after.” 

They all looked at each other, various degrees of confused. Hawk was the one who spoke first, turning his head toward Miguel so sharply his mohawk moved. 

“Well, if he comes out to anyone, it’ll be you, dude,” he said, slapping Miguel on his shoulder. 

Miguel laughed, but his eyes were looking at something far away, like he was figuring something out. Aisha watched him think, and then took out her phone to text Tory. 

***

Miguel lingered in the courtyard outside his apartment, trying to decide if he wanted to knock on Sensei Lawrence’s door or not. He wanted to ask him about his conversation with Aisha, wanted to probe deeper, but he knew that in knocking on that door, he would be telling Johnny that Aisha had talked about their private conversation. 

Would that discourage him from telling him things in the future? 

He remembered, while he was sitting at that table with Hawk and Aisha, watching an 80s movie with Johnny a few months before. The room was half-dark, the sun setting while the movie was on, neither of them willing to get up to turn on a light. He hadn’t intended on sticking around to watch a movie – he had tagged along with Johnny to the grocery store, intent on picking up some things for his mom while she was working double shifts at the hospital. 

And then Johnny had turned on the television and _Bloodsport_ was playing, and Miguel had never seen it – the rest was predictable. 

The movie was almost over, and Johnny and Miguel were laughing about the made-for-TV edits that made the movie somehow cheesier than it already was when a LaRusso Auto commercial came on. 

Johnny had scoffed and rolled his eyes, and Miguel had used that opportunity to get up and pour himself a glass of orange juice from the fridge. He looked up in time to catch the silly karate moves Mr. LaRusso always did, and caught Johnny watching, a wistful half-smile on his face. 

He’d dismissed it at the time, but now it seemed important. Conspicuous, even. Not two weeks after that, Mr. LaRusso and Sensei Lawrence had gotten into an argument at the dojo. Johnny had shoved Daniel toward his office and shut the door behind them. 

When they came out, almost half an hour later, both of them looking irritated and sheepish, Johnny had announced a truce between Cobra Kai and Miyagi-do. 

And there was that half-smile again, drifting over his face when he glanced over at his rival, who still had his arms crossed over his chest, looking petulant. 

“What are you doing out here?” 

He jerked out of his thoughts, and found Robby Keene glaring at him, gym bag over his shoulder. 

“I live here,” he said, sharper than he intended. 

Robby rolled his eyes and shifted the bag higher on his shoulder. “So you just…come outside and stare into space for no reason?” 

It was insane how easily Robby Keene got under his skin. Immediately, Miguel felt the blood rush to his face, a horrifying mixture of embarrassment and irritation. He forced himself not to respond – how angry would Sensei be if he picked a fight with his son right outside his door? 

“Actually,” he glanced toward the apartment door, and back at Robby. “Can I ask you something?” 

“If you make it quick,” Robby said. “I need a shower.” 

It was suddenly very difficult to find the right words to the question. “I – well, has your dad ever –?”

He fell silent again, and Robby tutted impatiently. “Has my dad ever what?” 

“It’s – it’s hard to explain –”

Robby crossed his arms, a smirk dancing over his face that made him look shockingly like his father. “Should I go have a shower and come back while you collect your thoughts?” 

“Shut up, Keene –”

“Okay, I’m _definitely_ leaving –”

“No, wait, don’t –” Miguel reached out and took Robby by the arm, pulling him away from the apartment door. “I – well – shit – has your dad ever mentioned liking…guys?” 

Robby laughed, a surprised half-exhale that smoothed out the wrinkles on his forehead and made him look like a completely different person. He shook Miguel’s hand off of his arm. “What? No.” 

Miguel shrugged. “Okay –”

“Wait, why?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Miguel said, trotting over to his door. 

Robby scoffed, loud and rude. “You can’t just ask questions like that –”

“Thought you had to go take a shower, Keene?” Miguel asked, his hand on the doorknob. “Get to it.” 

He slipped inside, Robby Keene left standing outside, his mouth hanging half open. 

***

Another two days later, Johnny found himself bouncing his leg in his Challenger, parked outside Miyagi-do, trying to decide if he should get out of the car. Robby hadn’t come out yet – but he would soon, so the decision would need to be made quickly. 

Still, he was reminded of Aisha’s warning – _everyone will make fun of you for being rejected and for being gay._

He swallowed. He could do this – he could be chill and go inside and have a conversation with LaRusso without embarrassing himself. 

He had just unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for the door when Robby trotted out of the front of the house, Daniel following behind him, his sweater sleeves pushed up toward his elbows, his shorts the same shade of dark blue as his shoes. 

Suddenly, he was nervous – should he roll down the window? Get out of the car? What was the protocol? And then Daniel was talking to Robby, his eyes finding Johnny’s over his son’s shoulder, and he settled on getting out of the car. 

“What’s up, LaRusso?” he asked, pulling Daniel’s attention back to him. “Don’t trust my kid to walk to my car by himself anymore?” 

“What?” Daniel asked, surprised. Robby, beside him, patted him on the shoulder before going to the passenger side. “No, I was just walking him out. We were talking, and he noticed that you were waiting, and he didn’t want to keep you waiting, so –”

So Daniel didn’t come out here to talk to him. Johnny tried not to let his disappointment show on his face. But what did he expect? One nice conversation with LaRusso and suddenly everything would be different? 

It didn’t work like that. 

He gave Daniel a perfunctory nod, feeling embarrassment warming the back of his neck, and opened the door to his car again. Perhaps Aisha was right – this was just a crush, and he just needed to endure it. There was nothing to be done. 

_Tap, tap._

He rolled down his window, Daniel leaning forward so he could see both Johnny and Robby through the window. 

“Sam and Anthony are going to their mother’s tomorrow,” he said amiably. “Do you want to have dinner here again?” 

“Sure, Mr. LaRusso –” Robby said at the same time that Johnny blurted – “why?” 

“Dad.” 

Daniel ignored Robby and turned his gaze to Johnny, a smile playing around his mouth. “It gets lonely all the way out here without someone talking smack to me, John,” he said. “So when my kids aren’t here, I like having you two around.” 

He didn’t wait for Johnny to respond, just tapped the edge of the window in farewell and stepped away from the car. 

_I like having you two around._

Johnny bit his lip to hide his grin, Robby’s scrutinizing gaze boring into the side of his face from the passenger side. 

***

Tory groaned, dropping herself onto her couch, her feet hanging over the edge. Coming home after a long day of school and then work was a gigantic relief. She almost wanted to doze off right here on the couch. But she had homework to do, and her mom was working nights, so she wanted to have something in the fridge waiting for her when she woke up. 

She rationalized that she deserved at least five minutes off her feet to relax. 

She tugged her phone out of her back pocket and checked the screen. There were mindless notifications from Instagram and Twitter, but scrolled past them all and clicked on her text messages.

Two texts from Aisha. 

“Cobra Kai needs another party,” the first text read. “Hawk won’t shut up about it. Canyon on Friday?” 

The second text was two minutes later. “Oops, sorry, forgot you’re at work. Get that money, girl!” 

Tory smiled and replied. “Canyon on Friday sounds great. I’ll see if I can get out of work early. Be my drinking buddy?” 

She considered putting a little heart emoji at the end, but sent it without. She didn’t want to scare her off.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aisha does discuss insecurity with her weight in this chapter, so if that is something that makes you uncomfortable, be aware!

Aisha couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in Sam’s room. The karate melodrama that was their life for the past year kept them always on the edge of a fight or friendship, and most of the time, she was too exhausted trying to deal with everything else in her life to try to decipher where she stood with her oldest friend. So when Sam messaged her and asked if she wanted to come over so they could watch _Riverdale,_ she said yes. She didn’t have the heart to tell Sam she didn’t watch _Riverdale_ anymore. It didn’t matter anyway – what was most important was that she and Sam were friends again. 

“I can’t believe it’s been so long since we did this,” Sam said over the end credits of an episode that made absolutely no sense to Aisha, passing her more Red Vines. 

“Karate really takes up the time,” Aisha said with a shrug, taking a Red Vine and holding it like a cigarette. “I’m an old woman now.” 

Sam laughed, tearing off a piece of Red Vine and holding it up to her lip like a mustache. “But you’re such a beautiful old woman, my dear,” she replied in a terrible impression of an old man’s voice. “So strong…” she wheezed, and Aisha laughed. “So badass.” 

The next episode had started, but Aisha wasn’t listening. “So how is Miguel?” she asked, remembering Miguel’s protestations that he had enough competition for Sam’s affections. “You guys talking again?” 

She watched Sam’s eyes leave the television and focus on something far away. “We’re talking, I guess, and I unblocked him on Instagram,” she sighed, eating her Red Vine mustache. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel the same.” 

Aisha nodded. “I get it.” 

“You do?” Sam asked, the disbelief evident in her voice. “Wait…you don’t have a crush that you haven’t told me about, do you?” 

“What?” Aisha protested, so loud and sudden she knew the attempt was paper-thin. “I wouldn’t dare.” 

She laughed, a hesitant, insecure thing, and tried to avoid Sam’s gaze. Sam, who was raising her eyebrows at her with an almost pitying smile at her obvious distress. But what was she supposed to do? Say _yes, Sam, I do in fact have a crush and it’s your karate nemesis that I’m not allowed to mention in your presence? Anyway, back to Archie Andrews and everyone’s weird obsession with his abs._

That was not a conversation she was prepared to have. 

“You know you could tell me,” Sam said slowly, the smile fading from her face when Aisha didn’t spill. “I wouldn’t judge you. No matter what.” 

“I know,” Aisha said, because at least, that was true. She wasn’t worried about Sam reacting poorly to her being a lesbian. She was worried about Sam reacting poorly to _Tory_. She chanced a glance down at her phone and sat up straight. “Shit, I have training in half an hour,” she said, swinging her legs down to the floor. “Sorry, I have to go.” 

“It’s okay,” Sam said with a shrug, but Aisha could tell it wasn’t okay. Not really. 

***

“So I’m bisexual,” Miguel blurted with no warm-up. Johnny, in the driver’s seat of the Challenger, blinked and glanced his way, reaching up to turn down Ratt. He was looking at Johnny’s face, studying him for a reaction. Damn, did all of his students think he was going to be homophobic? 

Or was this something else? 

“I know Aisha told you she’s gay,” Miguel continued when he didn’t speak. “So, I figured –”

“The coast was clear?” Johnny asked. “You just let Miss Robinson fall on the sword?” 

“No, Sensei, we didn’t know –”

“Relax, Diaz, I’m just yanking your chain,” Johnny waved him off, giving Miguel another glance to make sure the stricken look was gone from his face. “I’m glad you told me. I’m glad all of my kids are telling me these things now.” He shrugged. “Means you guys trust me.” 

“Who else told you?” Miguel asked. 

“Aisha, Robby, you,” Johnny said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Robby had a bit of a time explaining to me what pansexual is, and I’m still not sure I get it, really –”

“Oh,” Miguel said, his gaze turning toward the strip malls sliding past. They were only a couple of blocks from the dojo now. “Well, I am glad to explain anything to you if you get confused.” 

Johnny furrowed his brow. “Anything I should be confused about?” 

Miguel watched him closely, Johnny could feel his eyes on him. “I – I don’t know…you know what being bisexual is, right?” 

Johnny could feel the heat rising in his ears. This was absolutely not the time to turn red. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, means you like chicks and dudes, right?” 

Miguel nodded. “It means I like two or more genders.” 

Johnny tapped his thumb on the steering wheel. “Right, right, genders. I remember Aisha telling me –”

“Good,” Miguel interrupted. “I just…wanted to make sure you got it.” He hesitated, then pressed. “You seem very much like an all or nothing kind of guy.” 

“I am an all or nothing kind of guy,” Johnny said, a trifle defensively. 

“But like….all or nothing….gender-wise?” 

“Diaz, what does that mean?” 

Miguel huffed. “It just – I’m saying…you always seemed to me like you firmly batted for _one team_.” 

Johnny blinked, putting the car in park. He could survey Miguel’s face easily now, the car idling in front of the locked Cobra Kai dojo. “I do…bat for one team,” he said slowly, trying to unravel the metaphor before he said something he shouldn’t. 

“Right, but if you _didn’t_ ….” Miguel said leadingly, and Johnny’s eyes landed on his, insistent and significant, and Aisha’s conversation from before came back to him in a rush, and he was pretty sure he forgot how to breathe. “You can tell me.” 

Was Miguel asking him to _come out_ to him? What the hell did these kids know that he didn’t? 

“Get out of the car, Diaz,” he said, making sure the words were just soft enough that Miguel didn’t think he was mad at him. “Thank you…” he said as Miguel pushed the door open. “For telling me.” 

Miguel gave him a two-fingered salute and shut the door, jogging up to the class to greet Aisha and Hawk. Johnny stayed in the car a few minutes longer, content to exist in silence.

There was a lot to think about.

***

He was still thinking about it when he drove up to Miyagi-do, a few minutes late to pick up Robby. He turned off the Challenger and got out of the car, somehow anxious both to see his kid and Daniel LaRusso, of all things, and trotted to the backyard. 

Robby was shadowboxing with the heavy bag, his hands wrapped, a sheen of sweat standing out on the collar of his shirt. Daniel was nowhere to be seen. 

“Dad,” he greeted, wiping his sweat. “I’ll just go let Mr. LaRusso know we’re leaving.” 

“No, it’s alright, you stretch,” Johnny waved him off. “I’ll go tell him.” 

“I think he’s in the living room,” Robby called after him. Johnny gave him a thumbs up and hopped up the steps to the little house, listening for Daniel’s voice. 

He was in the living room, sitting next to Sam, who had the same look Johnny had seen on Daniel’s face a thousand times. She was hurt. 

“I just don’t understand why she wouldn’t tell me,” she was saying, and her father, who somehow managed to sit just like her, nodded. “We used to be best friends, you know? And…what? Did karate ruin that forever?” 

“You have no reason to believe that Aisha is hiding anything from you,” Daniel said comfortingly, and suddenly, Johnny was listening harder. 

“There’s a rumor, going around school,” Sam said. “That she’s a lesbian.” Johnny tightened his jaw. Were there students bullying Aisha at school? 

“Okay,” Daniel said, nonplussed. “And you’re upset because she didn’t tell you?” 

“How does the whole school know before I do?” Sam asked, and Johnny bit his lip. He considered taking out his phone to text Aisha. Was that something he should do? He wasn’t sure. “I thought we were friends.” 

“Coming out to someone is scary,” Daniel said softly, slipping an arm around his daughter, who, Johnny realized with a jolt, was crying. “Just because people know doesn’t mean Aisha wanted them to know. You have to understand, sweetie, that this has nothing to do with you. Being scared of coming out is often a lot of fears, not just a simple one.” 

“But –”

“I know you feel betrayed, and worried for your friend, but the best thing you can do is be patient and let her tell you on her own time. Don’t pressure her,” Daniel said, dropping a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. “Don’t take it personally.” 

Johnny watched Sam’s head nod, her curls splayed over her father’s shoulder while he held her. He wished, suddenly, with an intensity that worried him, that he could say those things to his son, that he could hold his son that way. But he could barely hug him, and he certainly couldn’t give him enlightened advice about sexuality. 

Not when he was dealing with his own issues. 

He took a step back from the doorway and knocked lightly on it. 

***

Aisha remembered when she wouldn’t be caught dead in a skating rink. She went to a birthday party when she was around six years old, back when skating rinks were big and scary, and watched the other kids effortlessly put on skates and sail around the rink, weightless and free. She wanted to be like them. But she looked down at herself, chubby and awkward, and realized that it would take more than skates to make her look weightless. 

She spent that whole birthday party on the bench watching, and the next one too. It wasn’t until she was eight that she actually tried skating, so excited for the experience that she hadn’t realized at all that skating took skill that she hadn’t been building since kindergarten. 

So she fell, and fell again, and fell a third time. It was hard, the skates were heavy, and she was pretty sure people were laughing at her. 

She didn’t put skates on after that. 

Just being back in the skate rink, albeit at a little table near the bar, was enough to remind her of those childhood birthday parties, of those whispers and surreptitious glances that she always felt were directed her way. But no one was paying attention to her now, and that, at least, made her feel better. 

She had just taken out her math homework and a calculator when she heard the sound of skates coming toward her. 

“Well, well, well,” Tory said, a sly smile on her face, coming to a graceful stop on the toes of her skates. “Look what the cobra coughed up.” 

“Gross,” Aisha said, but she was smiling. She had just seen Tory at Cobra Kai training only a couple of hours before, and she was still happy to see her. 

It didn’t help that the uniform for the waitresses was just a pair of tight black pants and a polo that somehow suited Tory perfectly. 

“Oh, are you doing the pre-cal?” Tory asked, biting her lip and inching forward on her skates, eyes on Aisha’s homework. “I haven’t even started.” 

“I can help you if you want,” Aisha offered readily. “On your break.” 

Tory’s worried grimace melted into a smile. “Yeah? You’d do that for me?” 

Aisha fumbled with her calculator, Tory’s smile suddenly too bright for her. “Y – yeah, of course.” 

“Then I’ll just have to find a way to repay you,” Tory said, tapping her bottom lip with her index finger. “Hmm…”

“You really don’t have to do anything,” Aisha said, a laugh sneaking out nervously. “Really.” 

“I got it,” Tory snapped, as if Aisha hadn’t spoken. “You like cherry milkshakes, right?” 

Aisha furrowed her brows. “Yeah…” 

“Great, I’m gonna make you one, extra cherries,” Tory said, turning on her skates. “On the house.” 

Aisha smiled after her. Suddenly, she wished she had told Sam about Tory. There was no one else she wanted to text and obsessively ask if Tory had been flirting with her or not. Hawk would always say yes, Miguel would probably be weird, since he already dated Tory. Sam would give her the honest truth…

She pulled her phone out to text her – 

“Tor!” a male voice caught Tory’s attention on her way back behind the counter. She straightened up, holding left behind cups and plates, and waved to a guy who was walking up to sit at the bar. He looked, easily, about twenty. 

“Travis,” she said, a tad disapprovingly, like she knew him. “Don’t you have something better to do than come to a skating rink on a weekday?” 

“I wanted to see you,” Travis said, like it was that simple. Aisha wished she could say something like that. 

To her chagrin, Tory laughed, a demure almost-giggle that Aisha had never heard before. “God, get a life,” she said, but she was smiling while she said it. “I thought college students had more homework, less free time.” 

“Common mistake,” Travis waved it off, leaning forward on his chair to watch Tory move around behind the counter. “So, what are you doing after your shift?” 

“Pre-cal homework,” Tory said flatly. “Because I still have to do homework, even if you don’t.”

“I’ll help you with it,” Travis said. “I’ve got beer in the truck.” 

“I already have someone to help,” Tory said dismissively. “Have fun with your beer. And your truck.” 

“You are such a brat,” Travis said, but he said it almost fondly, and Tory shrugged like it didn’t bother her. She kept working, Travis momentarily forgotten, and turned to catch Aisha’s eye over her shoulder. 

“Extra cherries, right?” she asked, and Aisha nodded dumbly. 

How was it so easy for some random sleazy college guy to come in here and hit on Tory when Aisha could barely carry a conversation without worrying that she was being too forward, too obvious? She wanted to study Travis, like Jane Goodall, to try to puzzle out his secrets, where his confidence came from – because it surely shouldn’t come from his greasy hair and past-his-prime skater clothes. 

She sighed, looking down at her work.

***

Daniel wasn’t sure how he found himself here – preparing dinner with Johnny Lawrence and his son again. Except Sam was still upset about Aisha, and if there was anyone who understood her, who could make her feel better, it was Robby. So when he looked up and saw Johnny standing on the doorstep, he’d followed him out onto the porch and asked if he wouldn’t mind sticking around a while to let Robby and Sam talk. 

He’d looked almost frightened by the possibility, his blue eyes bright and wide. 

“Don’t worry,” Daniel reassured him, dropping his hand to Johnny’s forearm. “I won’t let you cut your finger off again.” 

Johnny gave him a strangled laugh and rolled his eyes. Daniel watched him do it, a half-smile on his own face. Johnny was acting weird. Probably he was just getting used to not antagonizing Daniel in every conversation they had. He appreciated the effort, even if Johnny constantly looked like he’d forgotten how to speak English. 

“Can you just stir this?” he asked, passing Johnny a wooden spoon. “Every two minutes or so, just make sure nothing is sticking to the bottom of the pan. I need to change out of these clothes.” 

He watched Johnny’s eyes come back to him, surveying his clothes, no doubt deciding for himself if Daniel really needed to change, and turned away. Against his better judgment, he turned back at the doorway and caught Johnny still looking, spoon loose in his hand like he’d forgotten how to use it. 

“Every two minutes, Johnny,” he reminded him. Johnny jumped like he’d been stung and went back to looking at the rice in the pan. 

He thought about Johnny while he got dressed, forgoing his usual pants for navy blue joggers instead, and a faded Bruce Springsteen shirt that he’d forgotten even existed. He slipped his glasses on and considered himself in the mirror. 

What had Johnny been looking at, anyway? He considered his reflection, remembering where Johnny’s eyes had been. There was nothing special about his appearance at all, save the very few grey hairs he could see in his hair that he needed to dye soon. 

He padded back out into the kitchen, Johnny studiously staring at the rice, spoon held in his hand like a weapon. Daniel leaned against the door frame and watched. Since Kreese had been removed from his dojo, he was pleasantly surprised in what he saw in Johnny Lawrence. Sure, he was still a loud, brash, sometimes-offensive annoyance, but when he wasn’t performing for an audience, he was contemplative, he was quiet. He cared about his son. 

And, as of late, he was fond of staring at Daniel when he thought the other man couldn’t tell. 

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Johnny Lawrence had a crush on him. But that idea was ridiculous – even if it was interesting. 

So, Daniel thought with a shrug, there was no harm in teasing him, right? Especially because Johnny couldn’t possibly have a crush on him. The world hadn’t gotten that weird. 

He stepped farther into the kitchen, Johnny’s senses picking him up almost immediately on the next step, and leaned against the counter. 

“You keeping that rice in line, Sensei?” he asked, watching Johnny’s face carefully for a reaction. 

It was almost instantaneous. Johnny’s grip on the spoon tightened, and his face flushed a brilliant, dark red. Daniel tensed his jaw to keep his laugh from breaking free, and leaned over, into Johnny’s space, to grab the spoon from him. Gently, teasingly, he unfurled Johnny’s fingers from the handle. 

“It’s not going to run away from you, John,” he said, and when he looked up, Johnny was looking down at him, the blush still fading on his face, mouth slightly open. “I’ll take it from here,” he said. 

Johnny backed up and out of his space so fast his hip hit the counter behind him. Daniel watched his retreat with raised eyebrows. 

Perhaps he needed to give this crush idea a little more thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very very mild internalized homophobia warning for this chapter. It's a passing line, but still, be safe, friends!

Every morning, Robby wondered if Miguel left for school early just so they wouldn’t run into each other on their way to their respective cars. He was pretty sure he heard his voice most mornings, hushed while he talked to his mother, and then louder when he got farther away from the apartment door. 

It’s not like there was anything to be afraid of. They’d called a truce, both dojos. It wasn’t like Robby was going to fling open the door and start throwing punches. 

Though the idea that Miguel thought he would was kind of amusing.

So that morning, instead of letting Miguel escape, as he always did, Robby yanked open the door the moment he heard Miguel’s voice and stepped outside. Miguel was still at his own door, his mother locking it behind them both, and hadn’t noticed. He was a completely different person when he didn’t know Robby was watching – he was bouncier, like an excitable puppy with a constantly wagging tail. 

The Miguel Robby always saw was terse, severe, unsmiling. 

And then both Carmen and Miguel turned around and the smile was gone, replaced by a tense jaw. 

“Good morning, Robby,” Carmen said kindly. “Going to school?” She wasn’t in her scrubs. Probably she didn’t have to work until later tonight, and was just going out to take Miguel to school. 

“Just waiting for dad,” Robby smiled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Miguel grimaced over the word ‘dad.’ Robby pretended like he didn’t notice. “Listen, we can take Miguel, too, so you can get all the rest you need before you have to go into work.” 

He wasn’t sure where the offer came from, but a part of him immediately hoped she wouldn’t take him up on it. 

She _did_ look tired, though, and she was always working. 

“You don’t have to –” Miguel said, but another voice cut him off. 

“Don’t have to what?” 

It was his dad, keys in his hand, bag of trash in the other. Robby looked up at him, and then back at Miguel, who was clearly trying to find a way to say in a friendly way that he didn’t want to be in the same car as his mentor and his nemesis. 

“I said we could take Miguel to school so Ms. Diaz could rest,” Robby said when no one else spoke. 

“Oh,” Johnny looked down at his son, surprise written all over his face. “Yeah, that sounds good. Come on, Diaz, let’s go.” 

It wasn’t a suggestion when Johnny said it – even Carmen gave Miguel a gentle nudge toward them with a smile and a haphazard “thank you, Johnny,” and Miguel was left behind with father and son. 

***

Miguel wished he had the ability to play it cool. He saw Sensei Lawrence do it all the time – when the landlord came by Cobra Kai to push his weight around, Johnny always pushed back, just enough that by the time he left, nothing had changed. He was always diffusing arguments in Cobra Kai with a well-timed insult, and no distress ever showed on his face. 

But now, with Robby sitting in the front seat, his shorter blond hair a slightly darker mirror of his father’s? Miguel had no idea how to play that cool. He couldn’t even understand how Johnny wasn’t bouncing his leg up and down near the steering wheel. Could he really be at ease? 

“Your mom works afternoons and evenings, right?” Robby asked, turning halfway in the passenger seat to catch Miguel’s eye. His eyes were such a bright green in the light, Miguel had to swallow and look away. 

“Yeah,” he said woodenly. “Her shifts got changed.” 

When he chanced a look back, Robby was still looking at him, his brows quirked like he was asking a silent question. 

“Well, if you ever need a ride…” he said leadingly. 

Miguel couldn’t stop himself. “Why?” he asked. 

Robby shrugged, turning back. “Your mom is cool,” he said simply. “And we’re in a truce, aren’t we?” 

Miguel watched Johnny take his hand off the gear shift to offer his fist for his son to bump. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed. “I don’t mind. It’s the same distance with one or two karate champs in the car.” 

The mention of karate brought the atmosphere in the car to a halt. Robby and Miguel didn’t speak, and Miguel hoped profoundly that Robby wouldn’t turn around to look at him again. He didn’t like not knowing how to feel – especially when guilt and something else swirled together uncomfortably in his chest. 

“Christ, try to be less awkward,” Johnny remarked. 

Robby tossed another glance over his shoulder at Miguel and didn’t speak. 

***

Johnny was still thinking about his son and Miguel when Cobra Kai training petered out that afternoon. Miguel had lost the nervous energy he’d exuded in the car that morning with Robby gone, but he still seemed – on edge, like his mind was somewhere else. 

He wanted to ask him about it, but he had bigger fish to fry. That conversation would have to wait until tomorrow. 

“Miss Robinson, hang back for a second,” he called. It was starting to feel like a habit. Aisha gave him a good-natured eyeroll that he wrinkled his nose at, but kept one strap of her backpack on her shoulder and waited by his office for everyone else to leave. 

“I don’t have any crush updates,” she said with a laugh when the last student was out the door. “And I’m still not telling you who she is.” 

He waved her off with a scoff. “I don’t want to get into your business,” he said, and it must have been his tone that wiped the smile off her face, because she suddenly looked serious. “But –”

“But what?” she asked, lowering her backpack to the floor. 

He told her about what he overheard at Miyagi-do, still unsure, even as he was speaking, if he should be telling her at all. He was a huge advocate for everyone minding their own damn business, but he didn’t want Aisha to be blindsided by some stupid school rumor, or by Sam’s frostiness. So, he broke his rule of minding his business, carefully watching Aisha’s shifting facial expressions as he spoke.

“People at school?” she asked. 

Johnny shrugged. “That’s what the little LaRusso said,” he confirmed. 

Aisha dropped her head to her hands and stayed there. Johnny let the room go quiet. He wasn’t sure what to do now. Usually, he’d offer someone a beer if they were upset. Apparently, that was not the go-to move here, which he learned after Miguel nearly coughed his lungs up after a single sip of whiskey. 

He settled for doing nothing, and waited for Aisha to say something else. 

“I didn’t mean to keep it from her,” she said, and her voice was muffled from her hands. “I just know that if I tell her, she’s going to ask me who I like, and then –”

A knot formed in Johnny’s gut. “Oh god, you don’t like _her_ , do you?” 

“Why does everyone ask me that?” Aisha actually laughed, but her brows were still pinched with worry. “No, I do not like Sam. I’ve known her since she had a Monster High collection. No way.” 

“I have no idea what that is.” 

“Lucky you,” Aisha muttered, but she chuckled all the same. “I don’t like Sam, but the person I _do_ like hates Sam, and if I tell her –”

“Tory,” Johnny blurted, like he’d figured out the correct answer on Jeopardy. 

Aisha’s face went very still, and she actually looked around to see if anyone overheard. “If you tell _anyone_ –”

“You’ll kick my ass?” he asked with a proud grin. She raised her eyebrows. “I won’t,” Johnny replied, but he was trying not to smile. Aisha narrowed her eyes at him. “I won’t!” 

“Nobody knows,” she was practically whispering now, and Johnny leaned forward, over his desk, to hear her. 

“I’m not saying you have to tell anyone anything,” Johnny pointed out. “I just wanted you to know so no one talks shit behind your back. I know how those pussies at your school work, I remember what you said when you first joined –”

Aisha shook her head. “They don’t pick on me anymore.” 

“Good,” Johnny said with a proud upward jut of his chin. _“Good.”_

But he knew how easily that could change. He had seen it change with people when he was in high school, the way Dutch pushed people over in the hallway, called them _‘fairies’_ for no discernible reason that Johnny could see. He knew how it could go for gay kids, and even if people were more accepting now, he wouldn’t allow his kids to be bullied. 

“I can take you to Miyagi-do anytime you want, if you want to talk to Sam about it,” he offered. “I know that she’s…” he hesitated, “on the other side, but she’s a good kid. Even if she does say something about Tory, she’ll come around.” 

“What if she doesn’t?” Aisha asked, and it was almost a plea. Johnny’s chest ached for her. 

“I know the LaRussos,” he said quietly. “They always come around.” 

***

When Johnny pulled up to Miyagi-do, it was with Aisha in the passenger seat, twisting and untwisting the little purple band on the end of the zipper of her backpack. Daniel watched him lean over to her and say something, his mouth quirking upward in a smile, and then Aisha was laughing. 

It never got old, seeing him be the mentor he always wanted. It reminded him of Mr. Miyagi, of the way he would always remind Daniel gently that people were a product of their environment. Change their surroundings and watch how they flourish or wither in response. 

It seemed Johnny was truly flourishing now.

He followed Aisha up to the steps, where she regarded Daniel warily, as if trying to figure out how much he knew, which wasn’t much. He’d gotten nothing but half an hour warning in the form of a text from Johnny. 

“can i bring aisha 2 the dojo? she wants 2 talk 2 ur kid.” 

“Hi, Mr. LaRusso,” she said, avoiding his gaze, and Daniel set a hand gingerly on her shoulder. 

“Sam’s inside,” he said. 

She looked up at him and studied his face, and finding nothing untoward, nodded and moved inside, where she took her shoes off at the door and lined them up carefully with everyone else’s. Daniel watched Johnny come up the steps, eyes on Aisha. 

“Do you know what that’s about?” Daniel asked. 

Johnny looked up at him, blue eyes deep and full of something he couldn’t name. “Yeah, I do. Do you?”

Daniel glanced back over his shoulder. “I have an idea.” 

He caught Johnny’s gaze when he turned back, as if Johnny hadn’t bothered to look away. There was that look again, somewhere between confused and fond, the wrinkle in his brow now as familiar to Daniel as the tightness in his jaw that indicated anger. 

He remembered the flush on Johnny’s neck a few days before, the way he surveyed Daniel in his casual clothes – like a hungry predator surprised at his own appetite.

“Come around the back,” he said. “Let the girls talk.” 

He led the way and listened to make sure Johnny was following him. Robby was in the shower, Sam and Aisha in the house. They had the whole garden to themselves – something that Daniel could sense made Johnny nervous. 

So he committed himself to banishing the nerves. 

“I was teaching the kids the wheel technique,” he said offhandedly, motioning toward the wooden wheel floating in the pond. 

“Thought they already knew it,” Johnny muttered gruffly, tearing his eyes away from Daniel to survey the pond in more detail. 

“Practice makes progress, Johnny,” Daniel pointed out. He paused, taking in Johnny’s jeans, so faded they were almost white, his red Whitesnake shirt, faded at the elbows where he bent his arms. “Do you want to try it?” 

Johnny’s head snapped over to him. “What, with you?” he asked. 

“No, with a bonsai, yes, with me,” Daniel laughed, shifting on his feet. Johnny looked away and didn’t answer. “What, you scared?” 

“In the pond?” 

Daniel raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t expected anything other than a firm dismissal. “No…” he said cautiously. “Not yet.” He met Johnny’s gaze and smiled. “Unless you want to get wet.” 

Johnny shrugged with a smirk. “Whatever you want, LaRusso.” 

Daniel stared at him, a surprised almost smile on his face. “Whatever _I_ want?” he asked. “That’s a lot of power to give your biggest rival.”

“I think we’re well past that, don’t you?” Johnny asked. 

Daniel didn’t answer, but shrugged one shoulder, considering Johnny’s statement. They weren’t enemies anymore, but did their tentative peace erase decades of rivalry? It didn’t seem like that. It seemed like everything had just taken on a new color, tainted by years of experience and new perspectives. 

“You gonna teach me or what?” Johnny asked.

Daniel grinned. “Okay, start with your feet like this –”

***

Aisha was surprised at how easily the words came out of her mouth. Telling Miguel, Hawk, even Sensei Lawrence made saying it easier, but the hard part was the way Sam’s eyes wrinkled at the corners, the way she bit her lip and looked away. 

“I’m happy you told me,” she said, and her voice was so achingly sincere that Aisha knew she wasn’t lying. “I really am. I just…you didn’t want to tell me.” 

“No,” Aisha said. “I _did_ want to tell you, I just –”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, wiping her eye with the back of her hand. “If I said something that made you think I wouldn’t be –”

“No, God, that’s not it,” Aisha insisted. “I never thought you wouldn’t be supportive.” 

“And now I’m just making this about myself,” Sam said, sighing in frustration. “I’m sorry, again.” 

That was something that Sam had that neither of her parents did – a compulsion to apologize at the slightest hint of dissatisfaction. Sometimes the LaRusso temper would win out and she could bite it back, or her mother’s wit would supersede the need to apologize, but most of the time she would diffuse any situation by admitting her fault in it. 

That was what Aisha missed most – Sam’s dislike of conflict. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Aisha said finally. “It really wasn’t about you.” 

Sam leaned forward, planted her elbow on her knee. “Was it someone else that made you worry?” 

Aisha shook her head, looking away from her friend and out the window. She could just barely see Sensei Lawrence and Sam’s dad, facing each other a respectable distance apart. There was a set in their shoulders that she recognized – concentration. 

“What are they doing?” Robby’s voice startled her, but Sam merely turned and looked up at him like she expected him to be there. She turned to look out the same window. 

“No _way_ –”

“What?” Aisha asked. 

“You’re kidding,” Robby added. 

“What?” 

“They’re doing the wheel,” Sam explained. 

“I don’t know what that is,” Aisha reminded her.

“The wheel technique,” Robby said out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes still on his mentor and his father. “You have to be in perfect sync with your partner to do it right.” 

He raised his eyebrows at her, and the meaning settled. Aisha widened her eyes and looked back out the window. They weren’t facing each other now, but still, their arms moved in complete sync, their weight shifting from one foot to the other seamlessly. 

It looked like they’d been doing it for years.

“…they look like they’ve got it, don’t they?” she asked. She didn’t really know what the wheel technique was, but they were moving at the same time, carefully shifting around a circle. It looked right to her. 

“You know what? I think you’re right, about that _thing_ we were talking about yesterday,” Robby said to Sam, eyebrows lifted. 

“I _know_ I’m right,” Sam said smugly. 

“Right about what?” Aisha asked. 

“Promise you won’t tell?” Sam asked, and there was such mischief in her eyes that Aisha was momentarily overcome with affection for her friend, and immeasurably happy that she’d told her the truth. 

“I promise.” 

“We’re pretty sure they like each other,” Robby said conspiratorially. 

Aisha raised her eyebrows. “Like –”

“Yep,” Sam said, popping the p. 

Unbidden, Aisha remembered talking to Sensei Lawrence about her crush, and the statement she told Hawk and Miguel about later that day.

_“But once you’re anything other than straight, asking people out becomes really scary.”_

_“You’re telling me.”_

She turned her gaze back out the window. Mr. LaRusso and Sensei Lawrence were facing each other again, hands at their sides in the aftermath of their bow, both of them grinning widely enough that their eyes wrinkled with it. 

“I think you’re right.” 

***

Eli liked going to the comic book store on Wednesday nights. It felt like he was taking a break from being Hawk, like he could step back in time to when things were less complicated. Karate was starting to uncomplicate itself, with the Miyagi and Cobra Kai truce, but it didn’t feel like things were going to go back to the way they were. 

But the comic book store, at least, hadn’t changed. There he could find the _Spiderman_ comics he liked, and sometimes they even had copies of _Bitch Planet_ , an indie series he read that no one knew about. Wednesday nights were when the rush of customers died down, after the Wednesday afternoon rush, when the clerks put out new issues. 

He knew Demetri would have been by hours before. He was never late on picking up his new issues. Maybe one day he would come back when he knew Demetri would be there. Maybe when he did, he would actually apologize and not let the words get stuck in his throat again. 

Tonight wouldn’t be that night –

“Eli?” 

He wondered, briefly, if he should pretend he hadn’t heard. But he was already turning around, and Demetri was looking at him with that face again, wary and guarded, and Eli felt like he’d been punched in the gut. 

He put that look on his friend’s face, all because he listened to Kreese. And for what? What had they accomplished? Nothing but bruises and fractured friendships. 

“Thought you would have picked up your new comics hours ago,” Eli said offhandedly. 

“Is that why you come here Wednesday nights now?” Demetri asked. “You know, I’m not going to hunt you down and fight you. That’s more your speed. If we see each other in public, we can just ignore each other.” 

He didn’t want to ignore him, he wanted to apologize. He opened his mouth to say something, and nothing came out.

Demetri stared at him for a moment, as if waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t, he just shrugged and turned away. 

“Wait,” Eli blurted, and Demetri turned around, his eyes on Eli’s hands. Another wave of guilt washed over him. 

“What?” 

“We don’t – we don’t have to ignore each other,” Eli muttered, looking firmly at a place just to the left of Demetri. “I think…we’re better than that.” 

Demetri didn’t speak for a long time. Finally, he swallowed and nodded. “Okay,” he said simply.

***

Daniel sat at the little table, Johnny to his right, his daughter to his left. Aisha and Robby were chattering away about some YouTuber that he didn’t know, and Johnny was talking with Sam about the benefits of her back push kick that he was now calling her _‘signature move.’_

“I’m not saying that it’s a bad move –”

“Just that it telegraphs too much –”

“It _does_ telegraph, there’s no way to _not_ telegraph that move, you have to drop down –”

“If you’re fast enough, it doesn’t matter –”

“It will definitely matter in competition –”

“Sensei Lawrence, that kick is a street-fighting move, not a competition one,” she said knowingly, scooping up a black olive that had slid off her pizza and daintily plonking it back on. “I know when to change styles.” 

Johnny gave her an impressed smirk. “Of course you do.” 

Daniel watched him eat, mind wandering. He had suggested the wheel technique to keep Johnny from being too nervous around him, his ulterior motive just poking and prodding the idea of Johnny having a crush on him. He had intended to use the opportunity of teaching him some karate to see how he’d react, but he was focused, intent, and, as loathe as Daniel was to admit it, he was still fantastic at karate. 

They nailed the wheel technique after only two mishaps – he was almost tempted to ask Johnny to do it on the wheel when Robby trotted outside and asked what kind of pizza they wanted. 

So here he was now, in another dinner with Johnny Lawrence, intently studying his profile. 

“Take a picture,” Johnny muttered out of the corner of his mouth. 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Yes, because _I’m_ the one with a staring problem.” 

“I’m looking at my pizza, LaRusso,” Johnny pointed out, taking another bite for emphasis. 

“Yeah?” Daniel asked, ready to push his luck. “And the other day? What were you looking at?” 

Johnny shrugged. “You’ll have to be more specific.” 

“You sayin’ you look at me a lot?” Daniel asked. 

Johnny cast his eyes out to the kids, who were all talking amongst themselves. “You’re hard to miss.” 

Daniel held his breath. It was as good an admission as he was going to get when it came to Johnny Lawrence, wasn’t it? Johnny was looking at him with smiling eyes, his thumb lingering at the corner of his mouth like he was going to suck some errant pizza sauce from it. 

And then the smile in his eyes became a grin. “You know, because you’re always talking.” 

Daniel rolled his eyes while Johnny laughed. “You’re such a _dick_.” 

“Yeah, yeah, but you like it.” 

Daniel glanced back up again and met Johnny’s gaze but didn’t answer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cw for homophobia in this chapter, specifically homophobia against lesbians. It's only in the first section of this chapter, so if that really bothers you, please skip it.

Tory hated West Valley High. Sure, it had better standardized test scores and better teachers and facilities and all of that stuff her mother cared about, but the whole place was sterile. The posters on the wall even looked store-bought, not like the cheerleaders painted them. Back at her other school, there was an entire hallway that students were forbidden from entering because it was full of black mold. 

It was a rite of passage to break into the school at night and walk around in it. 

The worst thing this school had were…blonde Barbie clones that all dressed and sounded the same. How she missed the mold. 

The only benefit she could find in this school were her friends. Sure, that hadn’t gone well at first, but now she had at least a handful she could honestly call true friends. She still missed her friends from her old school, but at least she wasn’t alone here anymore. 

She had Aisha, at least. When Miguel and Hawk were off doing their own thing, she always had Aisha to talk to. Aisha, who helped her with her homework and laughed when she did some flashy kick in Cobra Kai. Aisha, whose eyes turned a pretty caramel in the sun, whose smile lit up her whole face – 

Okay, so maybe Aisha was more than just a friend. Still, as far as Aisha and everyone else knew, she and Tory were friends. Her crush was probably temporary anyway. She’d had crushes on girls before…they always went away. And she never acted on them.

“No, I know, I nearly threw up when I heard.” 

Speaking of blonde Barbies…Tory watched a girl with long, straight blonde hair lean against a pillar, her phone in her hand, surrounded by sycophants. She was clearly the head mean girl here – she probably watched one of those teenage popular girl movies one too many times and let it go to her head. 

“Seriously, everyone thinks I have it out for her ever since that whole…thing at the canyon party –”

A boy next to her piped up helpfully. “Yeah, someone said Aisha ripped you a new vagina.” 

“Shut the hell up Brucks,” the girl snapped, and Tory inched closer, her hand on the strap of her bag. She recognized this girl now. That must be Yasmine, the bitch that picked on Aisha last year. “I’m just saying, knowing now that she’s a…” she dropped her voice down to a whisper, “dyke, I’m just even more disgusted that she touched me at all. I mean, did she have some sort of weird crush on me?” 

The group chuckled, and no one offered a response. Tory could see how it was – let the mean girl talk her shit and don’t say anything back, so she doesn’t target you next. 

Well, she knew how to deal with girls like that. She could feel the anger bubbling beneath her skin, something Sensei Lawrence was trying to teach her to control. But she figured Sensei would make an exception this time if he could hear. 

“I mean, God, we all know she was super obsessed with me –”

Tory stomped into the circle of douchebags, hand around her backpack strap now so tight it was almost a prepared fist. “Yasmine, right?” she asked, a fake smile stretched over her face. 

“What do you want?” the girl asked, her sneer even uglier than her normal face. 

“I want you to stop talking shit about my friend,” Tory snapped. 

Yasmine blinked, and then the sneer melted into a condescending smile. “Oh, you’re that new girl. Right, I heard the school had to let in a certain number of kids from the wrong side of the tracks, but honestly, I think they went too far over the tracks for you. I mean, what is that?” Yasmine was looking down at Tory’s bracelet, the spikes the principal had told her leave at home. “God, she’s like a little punk bitch or something.” 

She wasn’t even addressing Tory at all now – it was like she wasn’t really there, just a prop on a stage that she could use for her demented comedy special. 

“Listen to me, you little pug-faced reality show reject –”

“Tory!” A hand landed on her elbow, strong and commanding, and Tory jerked her head around and locked eyes with Samantha LaRusso, who was, irritatingly enough, not even bothering to look at her. “I’ve been looking for you. Come on, we have to go to lunch.” 

“Let go of me, princess,” Tory jerked her arm in Sam’s grasp, but she held firm, her other foot planted. 

“We’re going to lunch,” she said, finally locking eyes with her. “And didn’t you have something you wanted to say, Yas?” 

“Um, get the hell away from me?” Yasmine asked, and her group of minions chittered with laughter. 

“No, I meant thank you,” Sam replied coolly. “Because if I hadn’t come along, Tory would have kicked your ass by now, and not even a second nose job would have saved you from the damage.” 

“You little –”

“Next time you say anything about Aisha, I let Tory do whatever she wants,” Sam said, and now her voice was sickly sweet. “And you know what they say about those girls from the other side of the tracks.” 

Yasmine didn’t get to reply, because Sam yanked Tory into the cafeteria, the bruising grip on her arm betraying her anger. Tory didn’t say anything until the door swung closed; she pulled her arm free. 

“I could have handled it,” she snapped. Sam pursed her lips like she didn’t believe her. “Didn’t you hear –”

“Of course I heard,” Sam replied. “But Yasmine’s dad is on the school board. You hit her once and you’re expelled.” 

“I don’t give a shit –”

Sam shrugged. “Fine, hit her next time,” she said. “But I don’t think Aisha would appreciate you getting expelled to defend her honor.” 

And with that, she was gone, blue dress swaying with every step, back out the door she came in. Tory stared after her.

***

Johnny fondly remembered a time when concussions weren’t a thing. You got kicked in the head? Cool, walk it off or pass out, but no one bothered to check you for a concussion. There was no light flashing in your eyes or asking you questions you should know the answer to. 

Still, here he was, staring into Miguel’s eyes, asking him what his last name was. 

“Sensei, I’m _fine_ , really,” the kid had already gotten up and had to sit back down twice – as much as Johnny wanted to scoff at the idea of concussions, he found himself tapping an uneven rhythm into the floor while he waited for Miguel to get his bearings back. 

Really, it was just one kick that was supposed to land on Miguel’s arm that he took to the side of the head instead, it happened sometimes. But Carmen was protective, even more protective after the whole Kreese incident. So…Johnny was paranoid. And Miguel was dizzy.

“Training is over, u coming?” a text from Robby flashed on his screen, and he groaned. Training would have been over here half an hour ago. 

He hit dial and put the phone to his ear. 

“Dad?” Robby was still out of breath, probably from doing LaRusso’s yard work. Johnny almost rolled his eyes. “Where are you?” 

“I’m dealing with something at the dojo, can you put LaRusso on?” he asked, pacing around the edge of the mat, watching Miguel, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a cold bottle of beer resting on the side of his head. 

“Johnny?” 

“Hey, do you know how to check for a concussion?” he asked. 

“What?” 

Johnny sighed into the phone. “Can you bring Robby here? To the dojo?”

“Yeah, I can, but…if you think someone has a concussion –”

“I don’t have a concussion!” Miguel said from his seat on the floor. 

“You don’t get to have an opinion,” Johnny replied. “Thanks, LaRusso.” 

“I’ll be there soon.” 

Watching Robby and Daniel walk through the door to his dojo without pinched faces of anger or disappointment was so disorienting Johnny almost wondered if he had the concussion instead. But Robby still looked vaguely uncomfortable, his shoulders ramrod straight and eyes narrowed, LaRusso trying hard not to look at anything for too long. 

“What happened to you?” Robby asked, looking down at Miguel. 

Miguel dropped the bottle of beer and looked up at Robby for a long time before he answered. “Nothing,” he said shortly, but his neck was red, like he was embarrassed. Johnny almost grinned at him, told him to knock it off. 

“What happened to him?” Robby turned the question to Johnny, who motioned for Miguel to put the bottle of beer back to his temple. 

“Stray kick to the head,” he explained. “Just making sure there’s nothing to worry about.” 

“There is nothing to worry about!” Miguel protested. 

“Okay, genius stand up, bend over, touch your toes, and stand back up,” Johnny ordered. 

Daniel barked a laugh. “Johnny, don’t –”

“No, no, Diaz says he’s fine, which means he can show me he’s fine,” Johnny held a hand out to stop Daniel, eyes on Miguel. “Get up, Diaz.” 

His eyes went to Robby, who gave him an imperceptible nod. When Miguel got gracelessly to his feet and swayed, Robby easily caught him under the arms and lowered him back down to the floor. 

“So…what did we learn?” Johnny asked. 

“Johnny,” Daniel admonished. 

“Take the break when you need it,” Miguel recited dryly. 

“Good,” Johnny said. “Robby, keep an eye on him. LaRusso, my office?” 

Daniel followed him to the little office in the back and shut the door quietly behind him. He gave him a quizzical look in the silence that followed, obviously waiting for Johnny to explain why they were here. Johnny pursed his lips before he spoke. 

“Should I call his mother?” he asked. “Carmen’s been…really concerned about karate since Kreese. I don’t want him getting pulled out of the class if he’ll be fine in a few minutes.” 

Daniel tilted his head at him. “Well, let’s see,” he moved to the same side of the desk Johnny was on, indicating the old laptop on the desk. “May I?” 

“Sure,” Johnny said, pulling out the chair for Daniel to sit in. 

He watched the Google search for “concussion symptoms” come up, squinting from over Daniel’s shoulder. 

“Okay, has he thrown up?” Daniel asked. 

“Nope.” 

“Confusion?” 

“A little.” 

“Hmm…” Daniel read on, and then leaned back in the chair and looked up at Johnny. “Memory loss?” He caught Johnny squinting at the screen and grinned. “Johnny, do you need glasses?” 

“No memory loss,” Johnny said, looking down at Daniel with a frown. “And no, LaRusso, I don’t need glasses. I’m not a nerd.” 

“I have glasses.” 

“My statement stands,” Johnny said, dodging Daniel’s playful swat. “So…concussion?” 

“Probably not,” Daniel said. “But it is worth keeping an eye on.” He looked at him for a long time, big brown eyes soft and tender. “You’re really worried,” he said. 

Johnny took a breath and looked away, to the window. “Yeah,” he said nervously. “He’s my best student.” 

“He’s like your son,” Daniel pointed out. “You can be scared for him.”

Johnny looked back down at him, catching Daniel in the act of smiling gently at him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen that look on LaRusso’s face before – almost absently fond, unaware of the expression on his face. 

“What?” Daniel asked. Johnny had been quiet for too long. 

“Nothing,” Johnny said, turning away again. He felt Daniel’s eyes land on him the moment he looked away, surveying, scrutinizing, appreciating. He suppressed a smile. It was soothing, feeling at least momentarily understood, even if by the only person who could possibly understand him. 

“We should check on them,” Daniel suggested. 

“Yeah, we don’t want Robby giving Miguel a real concussion,” Johnny muttered, moving toward the door. 

Daniel’s hand landed on his wrist, stopping him in the act of opening the door. “We should…talk soon, about what’s going to happen in a couple of weeks when Shannon gets out of rehab,” he said. “I meant to bring it up last time,” he started, eyes rising to find his. “But I keep forgetting.” 

“Because I’m so much fun to be around,” Johnny said, nodding seriously. “I get it, LaRusso.” 

Daniel laughed. “Whatever you say, Johnny.” 

***

Robby settled onto the floor in front of Miguel. “Who kicked you?” he asked. 

“Tory,” Miguel winced, pulling the bottle away from his head and setting it down. “My head is cold.” 

Robby surveyed him closely, tilting his head to catch sight of the bump on the side of Miguel’s head, red from the cold of the bottle. “How many fingers am I holding up?” he asked, holding up his lone middle finger. 

“Fuck you, Keene,” Miguel said, a laugh sneaking out. He shoved Robby’s hand out of his face. 

Robby glanced up at the closed office door, an almost smile on his face. “Do you want to try standing up?” he asked. “While my dad isn’t here to make you do flips and shit?” 

Miguel grimaced as he laughed, holding the side of his head. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, help me up.” 

Robby reached for him, sliding his arm around Miguel’s torso, supporting rather than holding, while Miguel slowly got to his feet. “I’m not holding you,” he warned him, his voice ruffling Miguel’s long hair near his ear. “But I’ll catch you if you need it.” 

“Hold on, just give me a second,” Miguel said, straightening up to his full height, swaying a little on his feet. Robby could feel him move on the spot, his arm brushing against Miguel’s back as he shifted. 

“Talk to me, Diaz,” Robby said when Miguel didn’t speak for a long moment, eyes focused on something far away. “What’s going on?” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Miguel muttered, taking a half-step forward. “I just needed a second.” 

“Okay…” Robby said, following him closely. “Just…you know, say something if you’re gonna pass out.” 

“Careful, Keene, you sound worried,” Miguel joked, wrapping his hand around Robby’s arm for balance. 

Robby rolled his eyes. “Someone’s gotta.” 

“ _He’s_ worried,” Miguel said, ‘he’ obviously Johnny. “He just doesn’t want to scare anyone by showing it.” 

Robby shook his head, a wave of hurt washing over him that he didn’t think he would ever move past. “You know him well.” 

Miguel’s hand around his arm tightened. “You will, too,” he promised softly. 

Robby gazed up at him, waiting for the joke, or the insult. It never came. Miguel just looked down at him, chocolate brown eyes huge, and blinked before taking another step, and then another. 

He glanced up from Miguel’s side in time to see Daniel catch Johnny by the wrist in the window, and the way Johnny looked down at him. 

***

Moon settled into the park bench, eyes taking in her ex-boyfriend, was eating an ice cream cone, eyes looking at something far away. She sipped her smoothie placidly. 

“How’s Piper?” he asked, and Moon narrowed her eyes at him, but he looked up at her over the ice cream cone, eyes genuine. “I’m really asking,” he said. 

“She’s good,” Moon said, smiling down at her pink smoothie. “Is that why you wanted to meet? To ask about Piper?”

Eli shook his head, offering her the ice cream cone. Wordlessly, they traded. “You’re good at this whole…good person shit –”

“Thank you,” she said flatly. 

“I’m um…” he took a sip of the smoothie, grimaced, and passed it back. She rolled her eyes and gave him back the ice cream. “Demetri and I…” 

“You have a crush on Demetri,” Moon finished for him, taking another sip of her smoothie. 

Eli furrowed his brows at her, mouth tight. “I wanted to be _friends_ with Demetri again,” he corrected. “I don’t have a crush on Demetri.” 

Moon gave him a knowing look. 

“I don’t!” 

She sighed. “Okay, sure,” she said. “If you want to be friends with Eli again, you need to apologize to him. For all of the Cobra Kai stuff, for your _aggro behavior_ –”

“But if I didn’t want….to say the words –”

“Eli Moskowitz, you _will_ apologize to your friend,” Moon admonished firmly. “He deserves an apology.” She put a hand on his arm. “And if you apologize, he will too.” 

Eli ate more of his ice cream, blinking past a brain freeze. “You think?” he asked. 

“I know.” 

***

Johnny waited until Robby had settled onto the couch before he blurted out, “Do you have a thing for Miguel?” 

Robby spluttered, halfway between a laugh and a scoff, and rolled his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked. 

Johnny turned away from his son to the freezer, where he had a frozen lasagna that he planned for them to eat for dinner. He pulled it out and cranked up the oven. “You and Miguel. There’s a…what’s the word Hawk uses? A vibe.” 

“A _vibe_?” Robby laughed, leaning forward in his seat to put his elbows on his knees. “Do you have a thing for Mr. LaRusso?” 

Johnny froze, the lasagna box in his hands. Robby watched him intently, eyes bright. 

“Because there’s _a vibe_.” 

Johnny sighed and set the box down in the kitchen and padded into the living room. “You know that when you deflect, it proves my point?” 

“Screw you.” 

“No, hey,” Johnny caught Robby by the arm before he could leave the room. “I wasn’t trying to pressure you or anything. It was just a question. You don’t have to get defensive.” 

“I’m not defensive,” Robby snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Johnny almost laughed. His son was so much like him sometimes it still blew his mind. And to think, he gave up so much time with his son, and the boy was still just like him. He patted the seat beside him and raised his eyebrows at his son until he took the seat. 

“Yeah, I think I have a thing for LaRusso,” he said with no preamble. “I don’t…really know how to process or what to do, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell any of your friends, especially LaRusso’s kid.” 

“Dad –”

“You trusted me, so I’m trusting you,” he said simply. He patted him on the knee and stood up to put the lasagna in the oven. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” 

He was awfully proud of that tidbit of parenting he just pulled off. He was pretty sure he’d seen it on the Brady Bunch or something when he was younger, but still. A win was a win. 

Robby’s voice found him when he shut the oven door. 

“I do like him.”


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Johnny sat on the edge of his bed, dressed to take Robby to school, and took out his phone to text Daniel. 

“i need u 2 do me a solid,” he texted. 

A reply popped up only seconds later. Johnny almost wanted to call LaRusso a nerd for replying so quickly. “I’m begging you to learn how to spell.” 

“i can spel,” he replied. “dick.” 

He got a little face with rolling eyes as a response, and then: “What do you want?” 

“call me 2nite @ 7:15 xactly.” 

“Why?” 

“its called being a good dad.”

There was a long silence, where Johnny stared at his messages, the notification unchanging, his feet tapping on the carpet, before he got LaRusso’s response. 

“It’s*.”

***

Eli stood in the lunch line, moving forward half a step whenever the person on his left shifted. He had been in so many of these lines he felt like he could move through them in his sleep. One hand takes a burger, another hand takes some baby carrots. Avoid the lima beans, grab a banana and a chocolate milk and move on. 

This time he was trying not to watch Demetri, who was sitting at their old table, now firmly taken over by Miyagi-do, alone. He was poking at some casserole thing on his tray, and a quick look down at his own plate told Eli he’d picked up the same thing when he hadn’t really been paying attention. 

Moon told him he needed to apologize, and if he did, all would be forgiven. He didn’t really believe it could be that easy, but how long had Demetri ever stayed mad at him when they fought before? There was the infamous _Iron Man_ fight of 2007, when they were kids. Demetri had kicked him in the shin and cried because it hurt his foot. That was the end of the conflict. 

And then there was the _Doctor Who_ dispute of 2014. They didn’t speak for two whole days until a new episode came out and Demetri ran down the hall to tell Eli what happened because he knew he watched it, too, even if they didn’t watch it together. 

This was the longest they’d ever been angry at each other. 

“Dude, move,” someone from his chemistry class hissed from behind him in line, and Eli lurched into motion. He’d lost the rhythm of the lunch line. 

He carefully pulled out the chair near Demetri but not directly beside him, just in case he decided to use his long arms as weapons before Eli could apologize. 

Demetri seemed to know it was him the moment he sat down. “This isn’t your usual table,” he said blandly without looking up. 

“Yeah,” Eli said, his mouth suddenly dry and incapable of forming anything beyond monosyllabic words. “I – uh – know.” 

“I sure hope you do,” Demetri chuckled, and Eli noticed, for the first time, that he was reading a leftover comic book from Free Comic Book Day under the table. He turned a page.

“I just wanted to say sorry,” Eli said in a rush. Demetri looked up from his comic, his huge hazel eyes landing on Eli’s, full of surprise and a healthy dose of disbelief.

Moon’s voice came back to him, confident and quiet. _You have a crush on Demetri._

“Shit,” Eli said under his breath. 

“Isn’t that my line?” Demetri asked, and he was almost laughing, and that, more than anything, is what made Eli laugh. When he looked back up, Demetri was still looking at him, a curious look on his face. 

“What?” 

Demetri pursed his lips. “Nothing,” he said. “Here,” he said, passing Eli his red apple, smoothly swiping the banana off his tray. “Trade.” 

It was as simple as that.

“Aww, look at that, Tweedledee and Tweedleugly are back together again!” Yasmine’s voice rang out from a distance, but Eli didn’t have to look up to know who she was talking about. He made to stand up, but Demetri’s hand caught him around the shoulder and pushed him back down. “I always knew the food chain would right itself.” 

“Ignore her,” Demetri said, leaning back in his chair. “Ever since Aisha gave her the most epic front-wedgie ever known to man, she has to push her weight around more to feel cool.” 

“What did you say to me?” Eli could hear her coming closer now, and he was about to abandon this idea of controlling his anger, and honestly, he was really considering at least tripping a girl, if not hitting her, when he turned around in time to see Tory cleanly shoulder-check Yasmine with a plate of nameless casserole, spilling the whole colorful contents all over her white jacket. 

“Whoops,” Tory said, shrugging one shoulder, winking back at Eli. “Gosh, I’m just _so_ clumsy.” 

He gave her a wink back. 

***

“Hey, do me a favor,” Johnny said, stirring the chicken in the pan on the stove. He squinted at the directions that came from the little ready-made meal he’d found at the grocery store. Maybe LaRusso was right. Maybe he did need glasses. 

He held the little paper farther away and breathed a sigh of relief when it came into focus. Take that, LaRusso, he thought. Still not a nerd. 

“What?” Robby asked from the living room, where he was writing notes in an organized little notebook. His handwriting was shit, but it was the thought that counted, right? 

“Go across the way and ask Miguel if he wants to come to dinner,” Johnny said, careful to keep his back to Robby so his son couldn’t see him grin. 

He heard the pencil clatter to the table. “Dad.” 

He rearranged his face and turned around, spoon still in his hand. “What?” 

Robby was glaring at him, eyes narrow. “Don’t.” 

“Don’t what?” Johnny asked. “He brings food over for us all the time, I’m just trying to return the favor every now and then. Besides, his mom is working late tonight.” Robby was still glaring at him, but his eyes weren’t as narrow anymore. “Go ask. He’ll probably say no anyway.” 

He wouldn’t, but that seemed to appease Robby just fine. 

Johnny thanked whoever was watching over him that he found this box of chicken pesto pasta thingy at the store when he was wandering the chip aisle, because if he hadn’t, this genius plan would never have been born. He had almost finished everything by the time Robby returned, Miguel sheepishly following. 

“Hey Sensei,” Miguel greeted, saying nothing to Robby. “That smells good.” 

“Because it came with directions,” Robby muttered, returning to his homework at the table. 

“Ha ha,” Johnny replied sarcastically. “It’ll be ready in a minute.” 

He glanced down at his phone. It was 7:06. LaRusso was going to call in nine minutes. 

In the other room, he could hear: 

“Oh, are you doing biology?” That was definitely Miguel. 

“Yeah…” Robby’s voice was quiet, almost impossible to hear. Come on, kid, you gotta have more game than that, Johnny thought. “I didn’t really go to school much last year so I have to catch up on some of these.” 

“I still have a lot of those notes if you want them,” Miguel said, sliding easily past the mention of Robby temporarily dropping out of high school. “That teacher uses mostly the same tests and reviews, so they should help.” 

“I don’t need your help,” and boy, did Johnny almost turn around and scold him for that tone. But then he remembered how he talked to Daniel LaRusso, back in the eighties and now, and decided to let it slide. 

“Cool,” Miguel said, unflappable as ever. “I’ll still have them if you change your mind.” 

It was 7:10. 

Johnny plated up the food and set the paper plates on the table. “Come on, you nerds. Stop talking about school and eat something.” 

LaRusso called at exactly 7:15. Johnny managed to eat most of his dinner before the call came through, ignoring Robby’s questioning glances at the speed of his inhalation. He fumbled for the phone as it rang, making sure that everyone could see the name on the display before he answered. 

“LaRusso?” he said, louder than usual. “What’s up?” 

“You told me to call you, Johnny,” was his exasperated answer. 

“What?” Johnny asked, pretending like Daniel said something concerning. 

“You. Told. Me. To. Call. You. Do you have a bad connection or something?” 

“Your car broke down?” 

“What?” Robby asked at the same time as Daniel. 

“Johnny what the _hell_ is going on –?”

“Yeah, I’ll come pick you up,” Johnny said, faking a huge sigh. “Thought you rich people had that triple A shit.” 

“What the fuc -?”

“Text me where you are,” Johnny said hurriedly and hung up. 

Robby was glaring at him again over the table, his eyes narrow. He stuffed his phone into his pocket. 

“Does Mr. LaRusso need help?” Miguel asked, ever-helpful. Robby rolled his eyes and blinked up his father. 

“Yeah, _Dad_ , does Mr. LaRusso need help?” he asked through clenched teeth. 

Johnny got up from his seat and grabbed his jacket and his keys. “No, I’m just gonna go…pick him up and drive him home. No big deal.” 

“What’s wrong with the car?” Robby asked as Johnny moved toward the door like his ass was on fire. “You know I used to work with cars.” 

“I – something with the transmission or some shit –”

“Dad –”

And then he was out the door, jogging to his car so his kid couldn’t come outside and continue the damn interrogation in the courtyard, dialing Daniel’s number as he went, trying not to notice that he had the damn number memorized already. 

“What in the hell did you just get me into?” 

“Meet me at the beach where we met,” Johnny huffed into the phone, unlocking his car door. “Bring some beer.” 

***

“You _seriously_ ,” Daniel almost choked on his beer, something with an orange on the label, “just tried to set up your son and your student?” He laughed again, looking out toward the ocean. “You realize you could come back to a wrecked apartment, right?” 

Johnny shrugged. “I don’t think it’ll come to that. Look at us.” 

Daniel leaned forward, an amused smile at the edge of his lips. “And how, exactly, are we the same as Robby and Miguel?” 

Except they _were_ the same, and Johnny knew that, because he recognized the way Robby looked at Miguel when no one was looking, and it was the same way he caught himself looking at LaRusso. He remembered misplacing his jealousy at Ali’s feet when he was a scared teenager who didn’t understand what was happening, the same way Robby blamed Miguel for things not working out with Sam. 

But he couldn’t just _say_ that. 

“Oh you know…” he trailed off, taking a long swig of almost lukewarm beer. “Rivalry and all that.” 

“Except we never got locked together in an apartment,” Daniel reminded him. “That would have ended poorly.” 

Johnny scoffed, and felt rather than saw Daniel turn to him. He lounged back into the sand, leaning on his elbow, hoping the change in posture would pull Daniel’s gaze away from him. It didn’t work. After a moment, he looked over at him, all dark hair and sharp planes while the moon reflected in his eyes and on the remnant of beer lingering on his bottom lip, the one that Johnny noticed almost obsessively when they met was poutier than his top lip. Thirty-five or so years later, and it was still distracting.

“What?” Daniel asked. “You think we wouldn’t have beat the crap out of each other?” 

Johnny shrugged. “We’re doing okay now, aren’t we?” 

“Yeah,” Daniel agreed softly, leaning back into the sand, forgoing the elbow completely and just flopping, boneless, into the sand, his hands cradling the back of his own head. “I guess we are.” 

Johnny looked away. He didn’t have to look to know that LaRusso still looked so painfully youthful, the lines in his face gone when he was happy, his smile easy and trigger-happy, especially when he was two beers in, the way he was now. 

“Hey.” 

Johnny was halfway turned in his direction when he realized Daniel had a loose hold on his sleeve and was gently tugging him down in his direction. If he continued on the trajectory he was on – 

Holy _shit_ , was LaRusso going to kiss him? 

The realization knocked all the air clean out of him, and he was pretty sure he let out some kind of gasp, because LaRusso grinned, smug and too confident and his hair was mussed from the wind and the sand and Johnny was powerless to resist him – 

And a jazzy tune startled them apart, and Daniel fumbled for his phone, pulling it out of his front pants pocket. 

“Sam?” he asked. Johnny leaned back to his elbow. Daniel’s hand was still on his sleeve. 

And then it was gone. He shot upward, sitting up before catapulting himself into a standing position, frantically wiping the sand off his pants. 

“Right, yes, of course I didn’t forget, I was just…helping Sensei Lawrence out with something,” he said, a million miles a minute, and Johnny rolled his eyes at him and stood up. Clearly their time on the beach was done. 

He hung up and looked over at Johnny in disbelief. “Amanda was supposed to leave the kids with me tonight,” he said. “I completely forgot.” His eyes landed on Johnny, on the empty beer bottles, half-buried in the sand, and then went back to Johnny. The sentiment was clear, even if he didn’t speak. 

_You made me forget._

“LaRusso,” Johnny said quietly, catching his lagging attention. “Go.” 

“Right,” Daniel said, checking his pockets and jogging toward their parked cars. “Rain check on…this?” he asked, his overactive hands motioning at anything and everything. 

Knowing immediately that he’d be obsessing over what this meant for the foreseeable future, Johnny nodded.

***

“So…” Miguel said, tapping his plate with his fork. Dinner was long over, but they were still here, both of them unwilling to leave the table, as if it would be some subconscious show of weakness. 

“So,” Robby said shortly. “How’s your head?” 

Miguel winced. “It’s fine,” he said with a shrug. “The bump is gone and everything.” He paused, his eyes drifting down to the table. “Thanks, by the way, for helping me get back on my feet. I never really said it.” 

“Don’t get used to it,” Robby replied. 

Miguel chuckled. “Yeah, okay, Keene,” he muttered. “I won’t.” 

Maybe it was the way that Miguel used his last name sometimes that kept his attention. Or maybe it was the way that he never seemed to rise to Robby’s bait anymore. It would make things so much easier if Miguel would just fight him. But no, he was calm, collected, unshakable. 

Everyone else in his life was built on rocky, unsteady ground, halfway to crumbling. Miguel just…wasn’t.

“How do you do that?” Robby asked. 

“Do what?” Miguel asked, caught in the middle of standing up and clearing the plates off the table, including the one Johnny left behind.

Robby couldn’t quite find the words to explain it. “Just…that,” he said, waving his hands around at everything. “You’re never…” he struggled to find a word for a moment before he exhaled and gave up. “Angry.” 

Miguel shrugged, smoothly removing the plate from in front of Robby and tossing it in the trash. “I dunno,” he said. “My yaya says that anger eats you up before it eats up anyone else, so I guess I always figured it was easier to let go.” 

“That’s…mature.” 

“Doesn’t always work,” Miguel said blithely. He sat down in Johnny’s old seat, next to Robby instead of across from him. “Hey, my mom and yaya are going to make a huge dinner this weekend, now that Mom’s night shifts are ending. You should come, they’d love to sit down to dinner with you.” 

“I’ll ask my dad, see if he’s free –”

Miguel laughed. “I kind of meant…just you.” 

Robby caught the redness in his neck before Miguel could use his hand to hide it. He smiled, and bit his lip just as the sound of keys scraping the lock pulled their attention toward the door. 

***

“I cannot believe you come to these things, like, regularly,” Tory said, leaning back into the seat of the golf cart, the little bottle of vodka hidden between the seats. “The pomposity _alone_ –”

“I know,” Aisha groaned, her hand sneaking down to grab the bottle. “But Mom and Dad have to show up, or else people start asking questions, and it’s easier to get the leverage for late night karate sessions if I come to these, so –”

“So you decided to start bringing back up?” Tory asked, motioning to herself, decked out in a black dress that had once been her mothers, her heels switched out for black and white checkered Vans. 

Aisha grinned at her, eyes lingering on her face before looking out toward the dark golf course. “It’s better with friends.” 

Tory let her eyes rove over Aisha’s profile while she studiously looked out at the loping green hills. She’d let Tory put a little bit of makeup on her today, squirming uncomfortably when Tory got close with the eyeliner, but otherwise taking what she called torture with no complaint. So now her cheekbones glittered and her lips were a dark, radiant purple, and she was even more beautiful because she allowed Tory close enough to do it. 

“I heard you almost ripped Yasmine yet another vagina,” Aisha finally said. “Sam told me.” 

Tory huffed. “She deserves more than that.” 

“Thank you,” Aisha said quickly, before Tory could gather steam for a rant. “Not a lot of my friends were willing to stand up for me before, so…it means a lot.” 

“That’s what we do,” Tory said, slipping her arm around Aisha’s neck and settling on her shoulder. 

She could feel Aisha beside her, refusing to relax into her arm, her shoulders a hard, muscular line. 

“So…” Aisha began, her voice small and lost to the darkness. “I’m gay.” 

Tory could feel her whole body relax in the wake of her announcement. She pulled Aisha closer and let her head drop to her shoulder. “Cool,” she said, just as quietly. “I’m glad you told me.” 

They didn’t say anything for a while after that, Aisha taking shallow sips of vodka and passing the bottle back to Tory, and the pattern continued every few minutes, until the air got chilly and Tory shivered. She lingered on a statement that was on the edge of her lips, the words formed but not said. She could tell Aisha that she wasn’t straight, but she didn’t know what she was. So maybe she should keep it a secret until she had a name for it. Maybe if she didn’t know the name, Aisha would just get confused, or she would think Tory was just stealing her thunder. 

The words started to tumble out anyway. “I think I –”

“Hey, are there _kids_ out there?” a voice cut through the descending fog. 

Out of habit, Tory capped the vodka bottle and tossed it into the glove compartment of the golf cart, an open cubby more than anything else. 

“We gotta go,” Aisha said, hopping out of the cart and offering Tory her hand to take. 

Tory took it and let her pull her into the darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

A whole day later and Aisha was still thinking about the night before, running through the darkness, Tory’s hand in hers, their panting breaths loud in the quiet, Tory giggling between each inhale, hair falling out of the pins and hanging around her face and neck, beautiful and disheveled and mischievous. 

It would have been so easy to say something more, to give Tory a clue about how she felt, but her parents were lingering by the door when they made it back inside, her mother’s eyes impatient and scanning the room for her systematically. So, they had been spotted and got into the car, where Tory politely thanked her parents for the invitation, gave Aisha a smile, and slipped out of the car at her apartment complex in Reseda. 

She wanted to walk her to the door, to have that moment on her front step that she saw in every romcom, but what excuse could she give? 

“I think I want to tell my parents,” she said at Applebee’s the next day, Miguel to her left and Hawk in front of her. It was their typical post-training hang, one that no one else was ever invited to. They were the OG, the original three. The team captains. 

“Tell your parents what?” Hawk asked, pulling a cheese fry out of the pile, cheese trailing behind it. “Oh,” he said when Aisha raised her eyebrows at him. “You think they’ll be cool about it?” 

“I mean, they’re churchgoing Christians, so,” Aisha said, flipping a nacho over aimlessly with her finger. “So that could go both ways.” 

“Haaaa _both ways_ ,” Hawk laughed, lifting his hand for a high-five. After an eyeroll, Miguel gave him the high-five, immediately turning back to Aisha when it was done. 

“You don’t have to tell them until you’re ready,” he said reassuringly. “There’s nothing wrong with it if you aren’t ready yet.” 

“But I _am_ ready,” Aisha said firmly. “I want them to know. I’m tired of hiding it. I’m tired of them telling me about the nice boys in the church they want me to meet. I want to tell them.” 

“Not to be _that_ guy,” Hawk said, smoothly leaning over and taking Miguel’s strawberry lemonade and drinking some before putting it back. “But do you guys think I’m into Demetri?” 

“The guy who weirdly and obviously changes the subject because he wasn’t really paying attention?” Miguel asked. “No, you’re definitely not that guy.” 

“Sorry,” Hawk directed at Aisha, who waved him off. “But…yes or no?” 

Aisha chuckled behind her hand. 

“What the hell was that for?” Hawk asked. 

“I mean, God, finally you figure it out,” Miguel said, snagging the nacho Aisha flipped over like a mercy killing. “We wanted you to come to it on your own.” 

“What?” Hawk asked. “You serious?” 

Aisha gave him an amused shrug. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. You _literally_ change your hair color every time you two have a fight.” 

“I do not,” Hawk said, affronted, reaching up to touch for his purple mohawk.

Miguel raised his eyebrows. “You kind of do.” 

“So everyone knew before me?” Hawk asked, exasperated.

“Well, except for Demetri,” Aisha shrugged. “You’re both just as blind as each other.” 

“Thank you?” 

***

“Sensei?” Tory knocked softly on the open door of Johnny’s office, dressed in her normal clothes, plain black pants and her roller rink shirt. “Can I come in?” 

“Of course, Nichols,” Johnny said, leaning back in his chair, invoices completely forgotten. Was he about to get the secret teenage info about whether or not Tory liked Aisha back? “Shouldn’t you be at Applebee’s with the others?” 

“Oh, no, those are just for the inner sanctum,” Tory waved him off. “I wanted to ask you for a favor.” 

Johnny furrowed his brow. “Okay.” 

“I was wondering if we could have training at the roller rink one day,” Tory said, flopping unceremoniously into the seat across from him. 

“Your hours getting longer?” 

“No, it’s just –” Tory looked back to the open door, even though no one else was there; they’d all gone home. “Aisha doesn’t know how to skate, and when she tried to learn, people made fun of her. I thought that…well, she picked up karate really quickly, and everyone here is really supportive, so –”

“That’s…very thoughtful of you, Nichols,” Johnny conceded, trying not to smile. “It doesn’t cost that much to rent out the roller rink for the night, does it?” 

“Well, I can convince my boss to open it on Sunday, when we’re usually closed,” Tory said with a shrug. “I’m pretty much his only worker who doesn’t constantly flake on him, so he owes me.” 

“Okay, done,” Johnny agreed. “On one condition.” 

“Sure.” 

“ _You_ have to teach Aisha to skate,” he said. “No one else.” 

She smiled at him, a knowing grin that almost reminded Johnny of Ali, full of knowledge, energy, and sass. “You got it, Sensei.”

***

Johnny caught Robby checking his reflection in the hallway mirror when he got home. He had his blue button-up shirt actually buttoned today, a far cry from his open shirt and band tee underneath. Johnny tried not to think too hard about where that habit clearly came from. 

“Looking slick,” he whistled at him, dropping his little gym duffle bag by the door. “So you’re actually going to go to dinner over there?” 

Robby’s huge eyes turned to catch his gaze. “Do you think I shouldn’t?” 

“What?” Johnny asked. “No, go. Seriously. Carmen makes the best food I’ve ever eaten. And Yaya – I mean Rosa – is really fun.” 

“And Miguel?” 

“Hmm?” Johnny asked, turning to check that the door was locked, even though Robby would be leaving in a moment, just to hide his grin. 

“You went through the rest of the family,” Robby pointed out. “What about Miguel?” 

Johnny shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to go to find out.” 

Robby rolled his eyes and shoved his dad on the shoulder on his way to the door, which was still unlocked. He looked back into the apartment to find Johnny still watching him, trying and failing to hide a smile. He probably meant it to be comforting, or encouraging, but it just made Robby more nervous. It would’ve been better if he made some inappropriate joke. 

Miguel opened the door before Robby was even done with the first knock, his Deadpool shirt cuffed on one sleeve but not the other, his hair sticking up on one side, still damp from a shower. He welcomed Robby inside, stepping aside in his socked feet. 

Their apartment was almost a mirror of the one Robby lived in, but it had been lit and decorated to look more like a home. Everything about it was softer than its counterpart across the way. There was an orange or a pink tint to everything here, wicker chair in the corner, candles on the tables, extra cushions on the sofa. 

“Robby, it’s nice to see you!” Carmen said from the kitchen, where she had an apron tied around her waist. “Dinner will be ready in just a minute.” 

“You look nice,” Miguel’s voice startled goosebumps onto his skin – he gave him a tight smile instead of saying anything – he couldn’t think of anything to say. 

“Thank you, Diaz,” Miguel said, poorly mimicking Robby’s voice. “Your Deadpool shirt is super cool and nerdy.” 

He grinned at Robby, who gave him a smirk back. 

“Listen to that guy,” he said. “He sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.” 

“You’re such a dick, Keene.” 

“And don’t you forget it, Diaz.” 

Miguel smiled, his brown eyes dark and sparkling with amusement, and Robby felt the smile coax out one of his own. 

“You actually look –”

“Boys! Dinner!” 

***

“Yas and Moon were mean to you once, right?” Demetri asked, holding tightly to the mini-golf club as Sam lined up her shot. “And…you guys became friends again?” 

Sam paused, halfway through her backswing, and set the club onto the green gently. “I mean…I’m friends with Moon,” she said slowly. “Not really with Yas. Why?” 

Demetri waved her off, and she set up her shot again. “Eli apologized,” he said when the ball went in. “He said he wants to be friends again.” 

Sam bent over to pull the little red ball out of the hole. “He apologized?” 

“Yep.” 

“For trying to kick your ass at the mall, and pouring beer on your head, and treating you like garbage?” 

“Presumably, yeah,” Demetri said. “He was…sincere. And I want to forgive him.” 

Sam blinked, and Demetri took the time to line up his own shot, swung, and missed. “Okay, so…what exactly are you asking me?”

Demetri sighed, running his hands through his hair, like he was frustrated that Sam didn’t immediately understand, even if he didn’t really know how to phrase his own question. “Would you forgive him?” 

Sam frowned. “I was never friends with Eli.” 

“If Miguel apologized to you for hitting you on the beach, for injuring Robby, for all that, would you forgive him?” 

“You and Eli are not the same as me and Miguel,” Sam pointed out, before pinching her brows together. “Unless…you _were_ –”

“We weren’t,” Demetri interrupted immediately. “But –”

Sam’s mouth dropped open. “ _Ohhhh._ ” She snapped her jaw shut. “Actually, now that I think about it, not really surprising.” 

“Sorry to ruin the shock of it all,” Demetri replied flatly, lining up yet another shot that he missed. “I’ll make it more dramatic next time.” 

“Thank you,” Sam said, faux-seriously. “But if Eli apologized, isn’t that a good sign?” Demetri glanced in her direction before she continued. “Or are you worried that he’s apologizing because he’s determined to keep you in the Friend Zone forever? Even if the Friend Zone doesn’t really exist, and I _know_ I’ve explained this to you before –”

“Yes, yes, yes to all of the above,” Demetri interrupted, waving his golf club to get her to stop. “Seriously, I don’t know why you have conversations with people. You clearly know all of the answers already.” 

“Thank you,” she said smugly, knocking the ball into the hole when Demetri wasn’t looking. 

***

When dinner was over, and when Robby was absolutely sure he couldn’t eat another bite of food for the foreseeable future, Miguel caught his gaze across the table and asked if he’d ever played _Breath of the Wild._

And really, even if he had, saying that he hadn’t would have been totally worth it for the grin that spread across Miguel’s face. 

“You haven’t played _Breath of the Wild_? Are you serious?” He shot up from his chair and took Robby by the arm. “Thank you for dinner, Mom, Yaya!” 

“Yeah, thank you,” Robby said weakly as he was being yanked bodily from the room.

Miguel’s room was the same size as Robby’s, papered with posters of 80s rock bands and video games, hardly any of the bare wall peeking through. There were a pile of pillows stacked up on the floor, against the side of the bed, flattened from where Miguel’s body had left its indentation. 

It was this little pile of pillows that Miguel collapsed on, patting the floor beside him. 

“Is it a fighting game?” Robby asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor. 

“It’s a survival game, I guess,” Miguel said. “You have to defeat Calamity Ganon and you have to like, hunt and forage for food and stuff –”

He trailed off as the game loaded and the television lit up. He passed the little chubby controller into Robby’s hands. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing!” Robby protested. 

Miguel chuckled. “It’s fine, it’s fine, just run around,” he said. “Look, you can climb the mountains and everything.” 

He really had no idea what he was doing or where he was going, but Miguel kept a steady stream of advice going from the moment the controller settled into Robby’s hands, and it was fun to listen to him, so Robby just kept walking into the wilderness. 

And then Miguel’s hand landed on his forearm. 

“Stop stop look!” he pointed at the screen, where a blue ram was standing in the distance. “You can shoot it with your arrow and collect the meat. Here, watch.” 

He put an arm around Robby and pulled him easily into his embrace, his hands covering Robby’s on the controller. He pushed a button on the back and lifted the controller, taking Robby’s arms with it, the screen changing with their movement. He was warm, his heart beating wildly in his chest, Robby could feel it through his shirt, unless that was his own heartbeat, too fast and too loud.

“Now you just aim for the head,” his voice was soft in the back of Robby’s neck. “And let go.” 

He released the button they’d been holding, and the ram made a sad noise and collapsed. 

He released Robby and moved away, grinning down at him. “See? It’s fun.” 

It really was. 

***

It had to be the way Robby came home, talking excitedly about a video game that he played with Miguel, a pink flush in his cheeks that inspired Johnny to walk across the little courtyard to knock on Carmen’s door. He was so giddy, finally he looked his age in the lines of his face, and Johnny couldn’t help but smile with him. 

If he and Miguel could be like that after one dinner, he and Daniel could too, couldn’t they? The things that they did in the past didn’t have to matter that much, not when the present and the future could be better, right? 

Carmen, by sheer luck, was the one who answered the door. He wondered what she saw in his face, because she immediately stepped outside and shut the door behind her, directing him to the little chairs she kept by her front door. 

“Weren’t you the one who told Miguel to strike first?” she asked him after he’d blurted the entire mess out to her, realizing even as he told the story that really, there were very few obstacles other than his own worry and his concern about LaRusso’s pride. “So…shouldn’t you strike first?” 

“And if I’m wrong?” he asked, cutting his eyes away from her perceptive gaze. “What if I’ve misread everything?” 

“And if you haven’t?” she asked. “You’re really good at making things harder for yourself when you don’t have to, Johnny.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he kicked at a stray rock near his feet. “I’m not good at –”

“The talking part?” she finished knowingly. “You’ve always been an action guy. So why don’t you let your actions speak for you?” 

***

“So, how’s Johnny?” Amanda asked, leaning back onto one of the chair on the deck at Miyagi’s place, her glass of wine almost empty. Sam was at Golf N Stuff, and Anthony was at a sleepover, so when he called, she came, no argument. 

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” he asked, taking a sip of his own wine. 

She raised her eyebrows at him. He could see her lipstick stain on the glass. “You really gonna make me say it?” 

He looked away from her and shrugged. He remembered when he used to come out here to relax. Now, it seemed everyone was conspiring to fluster him on a daily basis. 

“I actually figured you two would be attached at the hip the moment we separated,” she said thoughtfully. “So is it your pride or your fear getting in your way?” 

“Oh _come on_ –”

“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t want him?” she asked, leaning onto her elbow. “Because you’re going to have to be really convincing.” 

He sighed, and didn’t argue when she took his glass of wine and polished it off, too. “We fight a lot –”

“Not anymore,” she answered easily. “I heard you two nailed your balance pond thingy in record time.” 

“That’s not an indicator of compatibility,” he protested. “It’s just karate.” 

“Yeah, like it’s ever been _just_ karate with you two,” she said sarcastically. “Honestly, Daniel, you two look for every possible reason to touch each other, to push each other’s buttons, to cause a fight. Have you ever considered that you might not feel that pressure if you just slept together?” 

“Amanda!” 

“Oh, so we’re pretending to be scandalized by that idea?” she asked. “I wasn’t aware you were a prude all of a sudden.” 

He groaned, covering his face. He hated how much Amanda could see and understand without trouble. He wished he could be the same way, to see things with the same confident clarity. He decided, back when Johnny had his second dinner here, that Johnny liked him. 

But his brain was so good at convincing himself that he was seeing things, that he was looking too deeply into something that clearly wasn’t there. So the longer he allowed himself to think about it, the more convinced his was that he was making it up.

That it was just wishful thinking. 

“Take him out for a drink,” she coaxed, poking him in the arm. “Hell, bring him here to spar. Guaranteed you’ll figure out whatever you’re worried about in less than five minutes.” 

“You have a lot of faith in me,” he grumbled, fiddling with the finger that used to hold his wedding ring. 

She shrugged. “Honestly, I think you two just need to bone. Figure out all the details after.” 

“ _Amanda!_ ” 

***

Johnny nervously tapped his fingers on his steering wheel, consciously trying not to speed. He’d left Carmen sitting on her little white chair, smiling proudly. She was right, he _was_ an action kind of guy. He pulled onto the little property, parking behind the yellow car, and got out.

All of the determination he’d built up during the drive swiftly drained from his body and filled it instead with nerves. He was an action guy, he believed that, but sometimes it was impossible to act. When he was nervous, he froze. He learned that in Cobra Kai, when he was about thirteen years old. 

Kreese had asked him to step onto the mat to spar with one of the older students. He didn’t know enough karate to beat him, Johnny knew that, but still, Kreese insisted. So Johnny bowed to a kid six inches taller than him, and the nerves took over. He didn’t even block the kick that rattled through his jaw and skull. He just took it and fell over. 

Kreese had punished him for days, telling him repeatedly that to lose was bad, but to lose without putting up a fight was worse. 

_Do you want to be a pussy, Mr. Lawrence?_

_No, Sensei._

Except he was in his fifties and the nerves still managed to sneak through him and pull everything to a slow-motion halt. No amount of Kreese’s bullying and manipulation managed to exterminate that part of him.

He made it to the door and knocked, an erratic heartbeat on the flimsy door. 

Daniel answered, his lips redder than Johnny remembered, his hair tousled like he’d been outside. He smiled up at him, like he already knew why he was there – but that was impossible, LaRusso just thought he knew everything, as usual. 

“Johnny?” 

Right, he hadn’t said anything. 

He inhaled a shaky breath and reached for Daniel’s cheek, pressing with just enough insistence that his hand stopped shaking. Daniel stepped forward, out of the house and onto the porch, his eyes huge and deep in the moonlight –

And his phone started ringing. 

“You should probably get that,” Daniel said with soft amusement. 

“Ignore it,” Johnny said, but still, he didn’t move again. Daniel waited him out, looking up at him patiently, as if content to wait all night.

And then it rang again.

“Jesus,” Johnny grumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He pushed the button to answer it. “Miss Robinson –”

“Sensei, can you come pick me up?” Johnny realized, with a jolt that almost knocked him off the porch, that Aisha was crying. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her cry before. “Please?” 

“Where are you? What happened?” he asked, turning halfway away from Daniel. 

He didn’t really understand her, but she said something about “parents” and “therapist.” 

“I just left, I didn’t know what to do, I went to the high school –”

“I’ll be right there,” Johnny said reassuringly, looking back at Daniel, who was so damn inviting, bathed in the soft light of the house, his eyes full of concern even though he had no idea what was happening, and Johnny felt a rush of disappointment that he squashed. There wasn’t time for that right now. “Stay where you are, I’m coming to get you.” 

He hung up and looked over at Daniel, who smiled. 

“Go,” he said. “I’ll still be here.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a little bit of a discussion about homophobia in this chapter. It's not super explicit and there are no slurs, but if that worries or triggers you, please be aware.

His drive to the high school was a blur – he didn’t bother to turn on the radio or even buckle his seatbelt. He’d never heard Aisha cry, not even when she lost at the All Valley or got punched in the face the first time. She was tough, the epitome of tough as nails. If something made her cry…

He pushed his foot harder into the gas pedal. 

He found her on the bleachers – identical to the ones that he sat on between heats at soccer tryouts when he was her age – shoulders hunched against the cool air. He yanked an old shirt out from the backseat and jogged over to her, tossing it around her shoulders before he said a word. 

“Come on, Miss Robinson,” he said quietly, catching the glint of tear tracks on her face. “It’s warm in the car.” 

She leaned on him for the whole short walk without speaking. He opened the passenger side door for her and carefully shut it, taking a deep, long breath before getting in. 

This time, he buckled himself in. 

“Tell me what happened,” he said. 

It was exactly as he expected when she called. She gave him the whole story, from the conversation she had with Miguel and Hawk that afternoon, to the confession in front of her parents. He listened, trying to keep his face impassive. He knew at least one of his kids would have this reaction…he just hoped he’d be able to protect them from it. 

“They want me to see this therapist at our church –”

“Therapists don’t work at churches,” he blurted without thinking. “Sorry.”

“You’re right, they don’t. He’s just a glorified preacher. They want him to convince me that I’m straight, that this is all some…phase that I’ll get over in a few weeks, like the time I liked fucking Heely’s or something.” 

“Heely’s?” 

“It doesn’t matter, Sensei,” she sighed, and she sounded so exhausted that Johnny turned the car on and started driving. 

“They said they were going to get me help,” she said quietly. “But I don’t _need_ help, Sensei. There’s nothing wrong with me.” 

“I know there isn’t,” he said. “Everyone with half a fucking brain knows there isn’t anything wrong with you.” He sighed angrily. “You know what?” He fumbled with his cell phone, buried in his front pocket, and almost dropped it down the side of his seat. “Shit, here, call Bobby Brown.”

“Why?” She asked, already thumbing through Johnny’s threadbare contacts. 

“Just trust me,” he said. “Put it on speaker.” 

The phone rang twice before it clicked and Bobby answered. “Johnny? What’s going on, are you alright?” 

“Bobby, hey listen, you’re a priest –”

“ _No_ –”

“The Pope or whatever,” he winked over at Aisha, who was looking at him warily. 

“I’m a pastor, I _know_ I’ve told you this –”

“Yes, whatever, I’m just yanking your balls.” 

“It’s yanking your _chain_ ,” Bobby said in exasperation. “Whatever, did you call just to be an asshole? Because really, this could have waited until we all got together again.” 

Johnny grinned. He loved teasing Bobby, he would never get tired of it. “Hey, I need you to tell me something. Something related to church.” 

The man on the other line went quiet. “You drunk, Johnny?” 

“No, you asshole,” Johnny muttered. “I need you to tell me what your church says about gay people.” 

Bobby was quiet on the other end of the line for a long time. “Johnny, is this about –”

Johnny’s face blanched. “No, no _no no_ , don’t finish that sentence,” Johnny warned. “It’s not about…any of that. Just answer my question.” 

Bobby cleared his throat and sighed. “Okay. Well, the New Testament says that God and Jesus love everyone, because they are all His creations. There are no parts of the Bible that explicitly condemn homosexuality. Other sects that do are misinterpreting – or they are holding too tightly to old European societal dictates, which are largely out of fashion in any updated church. There’s nothing wrong about homosexuality of any kind. As long as you worship God and know that He loves you, that is all that’s important.” 

“Great, thanks Bob,” Johnny said and promptly hung up without a goodbye. “See? Even the church agrees.” 

She didn’t look entirely convinced. “Where are we going?” 

“My place,” he said, like it was obvious. “Robby is there, but there’s a couch you can crash on if you don’t want to go home.” 

“I don’t –”

“Okay,” Johnny said. “You can crash at my place. Just…tell your parents you’re with that LaRusso girl or something.” 

“I’m not telling them shit,” Aisha muttered. “Thank you, Sensei.” 

***

Robby was waiting for him in the living room when he got there, Aisha in tow. He gave her a confused look but said nothing, especially when she went to the couch and sat down without speaking. 

“Miss Robinson is going to be staying with us tonight,” Johnny said firmly to Robby, who quirked an eyebrow. 

“Okay,” he said, amiably enough. “Want some cocoa, Aisha? I was just about to make some.” 

“Sure,” she said, giving Robby a weak smile that didn’t really meet her eyes. 

Robby tilted his head at the kitchen and met his father there. He rummaged through the disorganized cabinets and pulled out a pot, and went to the fridge for the milk. 

“She had an argument with her parents,” Johnny said quietly. “She’s upset.” 

“Yeah, I see that,” Robby pointed out. “Have you considered calling her friends? Maybe they’ll cheer her up a bit.” 

“Maybe she just needs to sleep,” Johnny reasoned, peeking out toward the couch, where Aisha was scrolling through her phone. 

“Guaranteed she won’t be sleeping. If she had a fight with her parents and she’s staying out all night?” Robby said. “No way. Call her friends.” 

Johnny sighed, a heavy sound that actually gave him a little bit of energy, and messaged Miguel.

They were all there in less than twenty minutes – Miguel, Hawk, and Tory, crowded around the front door, sleeping bags and bags of snacks and movies under their arms, worry clouding their faces. Robby let them in, stepping easily aside so they could get to Aisha, who looked up at the sound of their voices. 

Miguel paused by the door frame, his hand landing on Robby’s hip before moving toward Aisha on the couch. Robby poured hot cocoa into four mugs and left them on the table before tugging his father down the hallway and into his room. 

***

Hawk was the first one to speak. 

“We aren’t going to let them send you to some bullshit therapist,” he said heatedly, crossing his legs like a kid on the floor. “That’s a promise.” Tory nodded in agreement. 

Miguel put his hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “I’m sorry this happened to you.” 

“Everyone else was so happy,” Aisha said. “I just thought…if no one else had a problem, they wouldn’t either.” 

“They will come around,” Tory said confidently. “And if not – well, you always have us.” 

“And Sensei Lawrence,” Miguel pointed out. 

Aisha shrugged one shoulder, pulling Johnny’s shirt tighter around her shoulders. “I’m their daughter, you know?” she asked. “They’re supposed to love me no matter what.” 

She looked over at Miguel, who looked dismayed, at Hawk, who was barely concealing his anger. At Tory, who was looking at her with shining eyes, worry creasing her forehead. She reached for the hot cocoa that Robby left them and took a sip, wincing against the burning liquid. 

“We love you,” Tory finally said. “And if they don’t want to be your family, tough shit, because you’ve already got another one. 

“Don’t count them out yet,” Miguel reasoned. “Just…remember that you have us.” 

***

Johnny got up early the next day. Robby had told him that Aisha wouldn’t be able to sleep, but he seemed to be the one with the problems. He listened to their voices, murmurs punctuated by moments of laughter, and then the sound of movies. The movies went on most of the night, and by the time he drifted off, the kids in the living room had been silent so long that he knew they were asleep. 

He tiptoed past them to the front door and slipped out, taking out his phone to send a text as he went. 

“Where do the Robinsons live?” he asked Daniel, who saw and responded to his text almost immediately. 

“You’re up early,” the first text said. Then, he followed it up with an address. Johnny didn’t reply. 

A few minutes later, another message came in. 

“Aisha’s dad was an NFL player, John. Don’t fight him, no matter what happened.” 

He didn’t reply. 

It took him almost forty-five minutes to get to Aisha’s parent’s house, a huge Encino mansion with a Hummer in the driveway. He rolled his eyes and got out of the car. He was reminded of Ali’s house, back when they were in high school. Big pillars, huge windows, huge expectations. 

An imposing man answered the door, handsome in a way that reminded Johnny of someone who was accustomed to having his picture taken. 

“Sensei Lawrence,” Aisha’s mother was at his side in a moment, beckoning for him to come inside. “This is a surprise.” 

“I just wanted to tell you that your daughter called me last night,” he said, not even bothering to make it into their parlor or dining room, or whatever useless room they were going to usher him into. “She called me crying because you told her you were going to send her to some quack therapist –”

“Now, Mr. Lawrence –”

“ _I’m not finished_ ,” Johnny directed at Aisha’s father, who raised his eyebrows at Johnny’s impudence. “Your daughter is one of my best students. She’s also one of the best kids I’ve ever met. And she told me she was gay, and you know what? Who gives a shit?” 

“That’s not for you to say,” Mr. Robinson butted in, putting a hand on his wife’s shoulder when she opened her mouth to speak. “Aisha is our daughter –”

“Which means you should be treating her like your daughter, not like a problem that needs to be handled,” Johnny replied. “She told you because she trusts you, and she trusted that you would still love her and treat her the same. And you didn’t.” 

“We do still love her –”

“Then goddamn show it,” he snapped, his trained eyes catching the way Mr. Robinson went tense at the sound of his voice. “The Bible doesn’t say shit about being gay, so why should you? I should know, I asked a priest.” 

“Where is Aisha?” her mother asked. “Do you know where she is?” 

“She’s with her friends,” he hedged. “She’s safe.” He took a deep breath, and forced himself to unclench his hands. “Look, I didn’t want to come here to yell at you. But…Aisha is a good kid, and she doesn’t deserve to feel like her parents are going to love her less because of who she loves. That’s not right – and since you guys seem to care a lot about what the church thinks, maybe you should think about whether or not your little dude on the cross would be okay with what you said to your daughter last night.” 

“Mr. Lawrence, we love our daughter very much –”

“Then get better at showing it,” he said simply. “Because when she tells you who she is and you tell her that you’re going to fix it, that’s not love. That’s something else.” 

He managed to get back out the door before Mr. Robinson decided to throw any punches, but he felt, later, sitting in his car, like it was rather a close call. He texted Daniel, still in the driveway. 

“Made it out alive.” 

***

Daniel called when he was walking up to the apartment door. Johnny allowed himself a moment to smile down at the display before he answered it. 

“Checking to make sure I’m not dead?” he asked cheekily, pushing the front door open. All of the kids were awake, piled on the couch and eating from different bags of chips. He rolled his eyes at them. Tory affectionately rolled her eyes back.

“Are you going to tell me why your life was in danger at the hands of Mr. Robinson?” Daniel asked. “Because you left in a hurry last night…” 

Robby glanced up from the floor, where he was watching an old Power Rangers cartoon. “Is that Mr. LaRusso on the phone?” he asked. 

Johnny pursed his lips at his son and pointedly went to turn down the volume on the phone. “None of your business.” 

He turned away to get a cup of coffee and missed the way Robby and Miguel made eye contact behind his back. 

“None of _my_ business?” Daniel asked, a laugh at the edge of his voice. 

“No, not you,” Johnny corrected. “I’ll – I’ll tell you later.” 

He could hear Daniel smiling on the other end of the line. “Does that mean I’m going to see you later? Because it seemed like you had something important to say –”

“It _is_ important,” Johnny interrupted, feeling nerves in his belly again, a reminder of where he was last night, what he planned to do before Aisha called. He wiped his clammy hands on his jeans and poured his coffee. “I just…can’t right now.” 

“I’m patient,” Daniel reassured him. The knowing way he said it turned Johnny’s cheeks pink. He stammered out a quick goodbye and hung up, fumbling his way through adding sugar and cream to his coffee. 

He turned around to find the whole room looking at him, the cartoon on the television paused. 

“What?” he asked. 

Robby tensed his lips like he was trying not to laugh. Miguel caught his gaze and they both looked away. Aisha looked at them both before she sighed heavily. 

“Fine, if everyone else is too pussy to say it, I will,” she declared, sitting up from her spot where she was lounging against Hawk’s shoulder on the couch. “Sensei, you like Mr. LaRusso.” 

“What?” he asked, incredulous. He looked down to his son for help, but he was texting someone and didn’t catch it. “I don’t know –”

“Come on, you’re not subtle,” Tory said matter-of-factly. Johnny narrowed his eyes at her. He knew a couple of _other people_ in the room who also weren’t subtle, but that felt childish. “Just tell him already. He definitely likes you back.” 

Johnny floundered, his mouth opening and closing, before he managed to find his voice. “I do _not_ like him.” 

“Sensei,” Miguel said sternly, shaking his head like Johnny had said something offensive, again, in line at Wendy’s. “No one is judging you. We’re trying to help.” 

Johnny glared at him, because he couldn’t glare at the rest of them, and took a long sip of coffee that was too hot. It burned the whole way down and wasn’t that just what he deserved, really? 

“We’re taking your silence as a yes,” Robby piped up from the floor. 

“Why – why exactly are we talking about this?” Johnny asked, closing his eyes and considering for a few moments leaving them closed. He could feel his face and neck going red; he was sure all of his stupid nosy students could see it too. 

“Well, you’re always there for us,” Aisha said simply, like it made perfect sense. “We’re your hype team.” 

“My what?” 

“Like a group of people who encourage you and cheer you on,” Miguel explained with his infinite patience. 

“We’re just trying to tell you that you should go for it,” Tory said. “You know, strike first!” 

“Yeah, he’s definitely a DILF,” Hawk chimed in, mouth full of Pringles. 

“ _Hawk_ ,” Robby groaned, dropping his head to his hands. 

“All of you are thinking it, you’re just too chicken to say it,” Hawk replied sagely. 

Johnny looked over at Miguel, who was still glaring in exasperation at Hawk. 

“What’s a DILF?” 

The room erupted in laughter, and Johnny could almost shake his insecurity off when he saw that Aisha was laughing just as hard, the hurt in her face from the night before gone. It was almost like it never happened. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Robby replied when he caught his breath. “I’ll tell you later.” 

He rolled his eyes and collapsed into the armchair, holding his coffee close to his chest. He sat with them a while, the silence not quite as comfortable as before, before he got up to grab himself some toast. 

Miguel met him in the kitchen, his eyes uneasy. 

“Look, I know that you didn’t exactly…come out to us,” he said quietly. “I hope we didn’t…freak you out.” 

He dropped a hand on Miguel’s shoulder. “How would you make a move on another guy?” he asked. “If…you know, you wanted to.” 

Miguel gave him a soft grin of approval. “The same way you would with anyone else,” he said. 

“Seriously?” Johnny asked, taking his toast and taking a violent bite out of it, dry. “That’s all you’ve got?” 

“It’s that simple!” Miguel exclaimed. “You two are the ones making it more complicated.” 

Johnny rolled his eyes and went still as someone knocked on the front door. Had the Robinsons somehow figured out where Aisha was staying? Was he about to get his ass kicked by an NFL Hall of Famer? 

But no, it was Daniel standing on the other side, in the same clothes from the night before, a dent in the side of his hair. Johnny looked back at the living room, at the teenagers all watching them with wide eyes, and pushed Daniel out of the doorway and shut the door behind them. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, pulling Daniel away from the front door, where he knew everyone would be listening. 

“Robby texted me,” he said. “Said you needed my help with something?” 

Johnny closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. He was going to kill his own son when he was done here. 

“I’m guessing that…was a ploy to get me over here,” Daniel said haltingly, taking in Johnny’s facial expression. 

“Yeah.” 

“To force you into…what?” Daniel asked. 

Johnny cracked his eyes open. “What?” 

“What was Robby’s endgame?” he asked. “What was the point in bringing me over here?” 

Johnny shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know,” Daniel repeated dryly. “You sure about that?” 

Johnny met his gaze and refused to look away, even though there was something like amusement sparkling in Daniel’s eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

“Johnny.” 

Daniel stepped closer, close enough that Johnny almost backed himself farther into the wall just to put some space between them. He looked down at him, soft and pretty in the morning light, mischief in his expression. 

“I thought you Cobra Kai were all about striking first,” he said, and it was almost a whisper, because they were standing so close together, chests touching with every breath, the smell of Daniel’s shampoo forever associated with early morning now, his eyes gold in the sun. 

“We are,” Johnny said, but the words were breathless. Daniel smiled at him. 

“Then strike first,” he said. 

There was hardly any space between them now. It was really only a matter of Johnny ducking his chin and catching the right angle. Daniel read him as easily in this as he did in a fight and adjusted at the last second, his hand coming up to rest his thumb on Johnny’s chin. It was that thumb that pushed Johnny’s mouth open so Daniel could slip his tongue inside, teasing and full of energy, just like Daniel himself, and Johnny let the wall hold him up so he could gather Daniel as close as he could, so Daniel was standing between his legs, his other hand sneaking up underneath Johnny’s shirt. 

He ran hot, _of course_ LaRusso ran hot, his palm an ignition that sent a burning flame up his spine to his neck, and he put a hand in Daniel’s hair, silky and thick and just how he imagined it, back when he was a teenager and Daniel’s hair was haunting his dreams that felt like nightmares. 

His other hand took hold of Daniel’s hip and hauled him closer, as if he hadn’t already done that, and Daniel made a sound against his mouth, both affronted and pleased at the manhandling. Johnny laughed, breaking their kiss to do it, Daniel practically panting half a breath away. 

“Good morning, Johnny!” Carmen said, her voice chipper and smug. “Daniel.” 

Johnny looked to the left, where Carmen was standing by her car, Miguel on the other side, his eyes covered. She gave him a thumbs up. 

Daniel snorted, resting his forehead against Johnny’s collarbone. Johnny gave her a wave. 

“Fucking eavesdroppers,” he muttered, and Daniel laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

Once Carmen was gone and Miguel had gone back inside, Johnny found it nearly impossible to look down at Daniel, who he _knew_ was looking up at him, an unapologetic smile threatening to split his face in two, eyes sparkling. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now – what did people do after the big romantic kiss? He didn’t watch enough of those girly ass movies to know. 

“John,” Daniel’s hand caught his chin and pulled his gaze down by force, which was exactly what Johnny expected of him. “Relax.” 

“I _am_ relaxed,” Johnny muttered, aggrieved. 

“I can feel how tense you are,” Daniel pointed out, releasing his chin to wrap his arm around Johnny’s waist. “Like a guitar string.” 

Johnny rolled his eyes. “But like a badass guitar string, right?” 

“Which guitar string do you think is badass, Johnny Lawrence?” Daniel asked in exasperation. “I’d like to know.” 

“I dunno,” Johnny shrugged. “The middle one.” 

He didn’t know anything about guitars or strings, but it earned him another kiss from Daniel, this one full of laughter and a breathy eyeroll that reignited a burning in Johnny’s gut that he couldn’t stamp out. 

“What are you doing right now?” Daniel asked when he pulled away. “Let me take you to breakfast.” 

Johnny grinned down at him, trying to ignore how painfully nervous the idea of a date made him. “Trying to wine and dine me at 9 a.m.?” he asked uneasily. “Bold move, LaRusso, but I have a whole herd of teenagers in my apartment.” 

Daniel furrowed his brow. “Are you gonna tell me _why_ there’s a whole herd of children in your tiny apartment?” he asked. 

Johnny realized, as he was speaking, that he still had his hand in Daniel’s hair. He ran his fingers through it again, relishing in the newfound ability, and sighed. “Why don’t we get some coffee instead of breakfast and I’ll tell you.” 

Daniel nodded. “I’ll…wait out here.” 

“Smart decision, unless you want a standing ovation when I go inside,” Johnny muttered. “They’re my hype team, apparently.” 

“Your _what_?” 

“Never mind,” Johnny said, squeezing his hand before going back to the front door. He looked back at Daniel, leaning against the wall now, the sun warming his face, and rearranged his face into what he thought was a neutral expression. 

The applause hit him the moment he opened the door. He looked down at Miguel, who was sitting on the floor beside Robby, and rolled his eyes while the teenagers whooped and hollered, acting like Johnny just became the All Valley Champ instead of just kissing a guy. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he waved them off, trying not to laugh. “Shut up, all of you.” 

“Is he a good kisser, Sensei?” Hawk asked from the couch. Immediately, Aisha smacked him with a flat pillow. “It’s for _research_!” 

“Where are you going?” Robby asked as Johnny shoved his wallet into his pocket and grabbed his keys. 

“LaRusso and I –” the room dissolved into girly whooping noises, “are going to get coffee.” 

“Wh – we’re hungry too, Sensei!” Tory complained. 

“Yeah, you have to feed your children,” Aisha pointed out. 

Johnny surveyed them all in annoyance, a group of kids that reminded him suddenly of a litter of puppies, ears perked. “Fine. But you’re riding in your own damn car,” he said. He let them all get dressed and ducked outside to tell Daniel that their first halfassed date would have a loud, irritating audience. 

***

They went to IHOP after all the arguing in the parking lot was finished, Daniel watching Johnny poke and prod and incite the kids with a soft smile. He would never get used to seeing him with his students, a man who stood taller, who carried himself more like he liked who he was. That was the Johnny that really drew him in, after all those years – the one the students pulled out. 

“What?” Johnny asked when they got into the car and Daniel smiled down at his lap. He hadn’t smiled so much in a long time; long enough that his face was starting to hurt. 

“Nothing,” he said, wincing when the music started, loud and insistent. 

“Whatever, LaRusso, you won’t stop looking at me,” Johnny protested, his hands flexing on the steering wheel. “Do I have something on my face?” 

Daniel looked out the window and sighed. “Do you think we should…talk about this?” 

Johnny side-eyed him, worry creasing his brow. “Talk about what? We’re going to breakfast after a hot make out session, I think we’ve got it figured out.” 

“Johnny –”

“ _LaRusso_ ,” Johnny interrupted. “Do you want me to detail my entire gay crisis? The whole waking up in a cold sweat after having dirty dreams about men? Because I don’t think breakfast is enough time to cover it.” 

“You know I’m not going to make fun of you, right?” Daniel asked, reaching up to pull one of Johnny’s hands off the steering wheel to hold. 

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Yes, LaRusso, I do know that,” he said, and even though he looked exasperated, his voice was soft. “But if you want to talk about,” he waved his hand around, still holding Daniel’s, “all of this, a breakfast with all of my kids is not the place.” 

“ _Your_ kids,” Daniel repeated. 

“Is this your way of asking me why they’re all in my apartment?” Johnny asked. 

He was _actually_ trying to find a way to tell Johnny how much he loved watching him with his students, how proud he felt when he saw the way the kids looked at him, with admiration and respect, something he knew Johnny felt like he didn’t deserve. But that seemed like a topic for a real dinner. So he just shrugged and nodded. 

Johnny told the story calmly, but Daniel could feel his grip tightening and loosening while he spoke. He finished the story quickly, without any sort of dramatic intent, and Daniel was left staring at the side of his face, mouth half-open. 

“You _yelled_ at her parents?” he asked, incredulous. 

“I didn’t yell,” he corrected as he pulled into a parking spot. “I was…firm.”

“You’re lucky Aisha’s dad didn’t rearrange your pretty face,” Daniel muttered. 

“You think my face is pretty?” Johnny asked, turning off the car and turning to drop his chin into his hand, blinking innocently at Daniel, who rolled his eyes. 

“Not anymore,” he joked, getting out of the car, leaving Johnny behind inside. 

The kids were gracious enough to sit at a huge booth at the back of the restaurant, leaving Daniel and Johnny to sit at a table for themselves a little distance away, Johnny waving off Hawk’s enthusiastic waving hand to get them to sit closer. When he thought Daniel wasn’t looking, he caught Johnny giving the kid the middle finger. He suppressed a laugh. 

***

When Sam walked into IHOP, Demetri following along behind her, the first thing she saw was her father laughing with Sensei Lawrence, his eyes bright and happy in a way she hadn’t seen since before her mom moved out of the house. 

Demetri, behind her, made an irritated noise. “He’s been compromised,” he muttered into her ear. She chuckled and elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Cobra Kai isn’t the Decepticons,” she replied. 

“No, just the League of Shadows,” he answered. 

“I don’t get that one,” she said, and Demetri didn’t have time to explain it to her, because Hawk was waving him over, pointing to a spot on the booth that was left open specifically for him, and Sam smiled up at him, pushing him gently in that direction. 

Aisha spotted her next, standing up and opening her arms for a hug. 

“Oh, hey, Princess,” Tory said, giving her an unreadable smile. Her dad, from the other table, looked up in alarm. 

“Sam,” he said, surprised. “What are you doing here?” 

“Tory called me,” she said. “Said that we were having a mixed dojo breakfast.” 

“You called her?” Aisha said, turning sharply to Tory, who was trying not to grin. 

“I figured it wasn’t fair that we all got to hog you since yesterday,” she said. “She might be an uptight –”

“Careful, Miss Nichols,” Johnny warned without looking. 

“But she’s your friend, too,” she said. “So come on in, LaRusso, we saved you a spot.” 

***

“So,” Johnny said through a mouthful of hashbrowns and sausage. “What are you doing on Sunday?” 

Daniel, who had a mouthful of orange juice, almost choked. “You asking me out, Johnny Lawrence?” 

Johnny could feel the students trying not to look at them. He rolled his eyes. “Try talking a little bit louder, Danielle, I don’t think the whole restaurant heard you.” 

“Louder?” Daniel asked, mischief shining in his eyes. “Okay, you got it –”

He stood up to yell, stopping only because Johnny caught him around the shirt and yanked him back down. He could hear the stifled giggles behind him. 

“I booked the roller rink on Sunday for some of my kids,” he said. “They’re going to teach Aisha to skate. I thought, since I’ll be on the sidelines the whole time…” 

“You want some company?” Daniel asked, smirking. 

“I want some entertainment,” Johnny corrected. He reached over with his fork and speared a sausage link off of Daniel’s plate. “And you, LaRusso, are very entertaining.” 

***

“Oh, I DVR’d the new _Doctor Who_ if you wanna come over and watch sometime,” Demetri said cautiously, watching Hawk’s face carefully for a reaction. He grinned, mouth full of food, and nodded. “The new Doctor is seriously badass, you’ll love her.” 

Tory leaned against Aisha’s shoulder, pouring more syrup on Aisha’s pancakes. “I have to go to work in a few hours, but if you want, you can hang out at the roller rink. I’ll supply you with free cherry milkshakes.” 

Aisha swatted her hand away, flinging a drop of syrup across the table and onto Miguel’s plate. “I think I’m gonna go home for a bit,” she said quietly. “Take a shower, change my clothes. But I’ll come by later.”

“I’ll save you a seat.” 

Robby looked over at Miguel, who was already looking in his direction, hair still a disaster from sleeping on a sleeping bag in his living room. He blinked and looked away, suddenly anxious. He hated when he got like that – full of words but with some kind of lock over his mouth that made it impossible to speak. His mom said he was a nervous kid; he wondered if that was what it was. 

He looked up in time to see Miguel spearing a strawberry from his fruit cup and dropping it gently on Robby’s plate. He snagged a piece of cantaloupe from Robby’s bowl, and grinned at him when he caught Robby looking. 

“Trade,” he explained. 

“Trade me anytime,” Robby said quietly. And then, before lost his nerve, “Wanna go to the skate park with me later?” 

Miguel brightened, mouth full of cantaloupe. He nodded enthusiastically.

“Cool,” Robby breathed, the word lost to the chatter around them both. 

***

Johnny was just working up the nerve to reach over and take Daniel’s hand on top of the table when Aisha walked up to the table, Sam at her side. Daniel looked up first – he opened his arm and Sam slid easily into it so he had his arm around her waist. 

“Did you tell your mom where you were going?” he asked, looking up at her, his face decades younger at that angle. 

“She was still asleep,” Sam said. “Something about wine with Counselor Blatt?” 

“Sounds raucous,” Daniel chuckled.

Aisha shuffled on her feet. “Sensei?” 

Johnny tore his eyes away from Daniel to survey her. “Yeah, Miss Robinson, what’s up?” 

“I think I’m going to go home,” she said haltingly. “Take a shower, get some new clothes, see…” she paused, looking up and over to the windows, like that would make the situation easier. “See what my parents say.” 

Johnny swallowed nervously. “Yeah, okay,” he said, clearing his throat. He felt Daniel look over at him. He tried to ignore him and took Aisha by the arm. “If you need to, you come back to my place, alright? I don’t care what they say.” 

“Yes, Sensei,” she said quietly. 

“I’d actually…” Sam interrupted. “I want to go with her. If that’s okay with you,” she said to Aisha, who bit her lip and nodded. “Her parents aren’t going to jump down her throat the second she walks in if she has a friend with her.” 

“You’d be surprised,” Aisha muttered. “But they like you, so.” 

“So we might get lucky,” Sam said soothingly. 

“Be careful,” Johnny said firmly to them both. 

He had the urge to stand up and declare that he would be going with her, that Aisha needed the backup of a fully grown man with enough muscles to protect her, even if his karate couldn’t really protect her. He turned and watched them leave, catching sight of Robby and Miguel talking quietly, heads together, Tory and Hawk tossing blueberries into each other’s open mouths, and Demetri swatting them out of the air. 

“Earth to Lawrence,” Daniel said, and Johnny whirled around in time to see Daniel signing the check and handing it off to a waiter who whisked it away before Johnny had the opportunity to complain. 

“Did you just sugar daddy me?” Johnny asked, loud enough that Daniel’s face went bright pink and the chatter behind them ceased. 

“I was trying to be helpful,” he hissed quietly as the conversations started back up again. 

“Uh huh,” Johnny said. 

“Look,” Daniel began. 

“Oh great,” Johnny groaned. Daniel paused, and furrowed his brow. Look was one of Johnny’s least favorite phrases – he’d heard it from a myriad of people, from employers to girls he asked out at a bar, and it never boded well. It was always a buffer for bad news. 

He raked his mind over the last few hours, trying to figure out where he went wrong. 

“What?” Daniel asked. 

“This is the part where you say something about _let’s do this again sometime_ but what you mean is that you’re gonna probably call me in two weeks for something related to karate and this whole breakfast will be a blip on your radar,” Johnny ranted, the words falling out of his mouth without any sort of consideration of how he sounded. “Oh my god I sound like a girl.” 

Daniel glared at him, exasperated. “You’re the one who didn’t want to talk about this.” 

“Yeah, because I’m _bad_ at talking,” Johnny pointed out. “Usually even worse at doing.” 

“Why are you so insecure –”

“I’m not insecure –”

“Would you prefer I said you were scared?” Daniel asked, leaning forward on his elbows. “Or paranoid?” He sighed. “I thought you invited me to the roller rink. Didn’t I say yes?” 

Johnny pursed his lips. “No, actually, you didn’t.” 

“I thought it was obvious!” Daniel exclaimed. Johnny watched his eyes linger on the lines of his face before Daniel’s expression softened. “I would love to go on an unofficial official date with you to the roller rink,” he said. “Honestly, Johnny, if you want me to get embarrassing –”

“Always, LaRusso.” 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “I’d go pretty much anywhere with you. Except to an art museum. Something tells me you’re not a lot of fun there.” 

“Paintings are dumb anyway,” Johnny muttered, trying not to smile. 

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to come back to my place for a little while,” Daniel said, glancing over Johnny’s shoulder before reaching over to take his hand. 

Johnny’s swallow of orange juice stalled for a second before he pushed it down. “Ye – yeah, yeah,” he said enthusiastically, scowling when Daniel laughed. “Laugh it up, LaRusso.” 

***

“You uh…you got a new shirt,” Hawk said, pushing his empty plate away as Robby and Miguel stood up to leave, the table’s occupants dwindling down to just himself and Demetri. 

Demetri looked over at him, eyes shining with withheld laughter. “You know, I knew that already.” 

Hawk huffed a laugh that didn’t really sound like one, fidgeting with his hands. “Yeah, it’s uh….it’s nice.” 

Demetri looked down at his blue shirt, a cup of Ramen on the front with the words “The only men I want is Ramen” emblazoned across the front. He blanched, realizing what the shirt said for the first time. “Oh, it doesn’t – I mean, the shirt doesn’t mean –”

“It’s funny,” Hawk interrupted. 

“Is it?” Demetri asked, relieved. “Good.” 

“Did you think it wasn’t?” Hawk asked. “Because…because I know you only wear shirts that you personally think are funny, or – or that you think are relevant –”

“Dude, are you okay?” Demetri asked. “You only talk like this when you’re freaking out.” 

“I’m not freaking out,” Hawk snapped. 

“You’re kind of freaking out,” Demetri said, nodding. “You’re not about to…go all Hulk on me, are you?” he asked, and the shine in his eyes faded, and Hawk could see how worried he really was, how nervous he was. 

“No,” he said firmly, still too firmly. “No, I’m not.” 

“Okay…” Demetri said slowly. “Did you…still wanna go watch –”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. 

Demetri dropped a hand to his shoulder and squeezed before he got up. “Am I allowed to call you Eli yet?” 

Hawk looked up at him, at his hopeful eyes and deceptively casual posture. His hand on his car keys was still tight, still nervous. 

“It’s okay if I can’t,” Demetri added when he didn’t speak. 

“You can call me whatever,” Hawk finally said.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some mention of homophobia in this chapter, along with a hint at the AIDS epidemic. Please skip if that makes you uncomfortable!

The sun was high in the sky when Sam pulled into Aisha’s driveway, Aisha herself tapping a familiar beat with her fingers on the middle console. Sam turned off the car and sat, keys in hand, waiting for Aisha to say something. Or maybe Aisha was waiting for the same thing. She hazarded a glance up at her friend and realized she was looking out at the yard, her hands tense around the strap of her backpack.

“I don’t have to come inside, you know,” she said. “If you don’t want me to.” 

“No, God, yes, please come inside,” Aisha stammered. “You’re right, they’re not going to yell at me if I’m with you. They think you’re an angel.” 

Sam fluttered her eyes in exaggerated innocence, coaxing a nervous laugh from Aisha. She put her hand gently over Aisha’s arm before she could open the passenger door. 

“If they really are horrible, we have a spare bedroom,” she pointed out. “Seriously, you don’t have to come back here.” 

“But they are my parents,” Aisha mumbled. “I don’t want to keep avoiding them. I want them to…you know, be cool.” 

“Yeah,” Sam murmured. “I get it.” 

And then Aisha was shrugging her hand off and getting out of the car, her nervousness shelved and forgotten. Sam figured that was probably the _no mercy, strike hard_ thing that Cobra Kai seemed to instill upon everyone who passed within ten feet of the dojo, but still, she had to jog to catch up with her before the front door was already open. 

Aisha’s parents managed to get to them before they were up the stairs and home free, Aisha’s mom calling her name from the foot of the stairs. Sam turned around first and met her gaze, hoping that whatever she was feeling – worry, protectiveness, and a little bit of anger – showed enough in her face. 

“Where were you all night?” was the first question, and yeah, Sam could kind of understand that one. 

But Aisha fumbled. “I – uh –”

“She stayed at my place, Mrs. Robinson,” Sam jumped in. “We went out for breakfast this morning.” 

Her mother’s face softened. “That’s very kind of you, Samantha, but you still should have told us where you were going, Aisha,” her tone shifted as her gaze did, and Sam could feel Aisha go still, like she did when she was preparing for a fight. 

“And stick around to hear you talk about trying to _pray the gay away_?” Aisha retorted. “No thanks.” 

Aisha’s mother started advancing up the stairs. “I’m sorry – I am sorry that you felt like we didn’t respond the way we were supposed to –”

“That I felt you didn’t respond the way you were supposed to?” Aisha repeated. “Don’t turn this into a whole _I’m sorry you were offended_ thing, mom. What you said was shitty –”

Mrs. Robinson’s face twisted at the profanity, and even Sam’s presence couldn’t keep her quiet. “You watch that tone, young lady –”

“You still going to send me to a therapist?” Aisha bullied past the admonishment, strong and steady and Sam felt a rush of pride for her friend, so strong she had to suppress a smile. 

Her mother shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “No,” she said. “I – I talked to your father last night and –”

“Is that why he’s not here?” Aisha asked. 

Her mother shrugged. “He’ll come around,” she murmured. “I’ll help him come around.” She looked beseechingly up at her daughter, a few steps above her. “I really am sorry, honey,” she said, and Sam believed her. But it didn’t matter what she thought. 

“Fine,” Aisha said, but there was a quiver in her voice. Relief. “I’m going to take a shower.” 

“And then?” 

“Sam and I are going to hang out a bit,” Aisha said, like she was mulling it over. “But I’ll stay here tonight.” 

***

“I didn’t know you had a skateboard,” Robby said, eyebrows raised at Miguel’s old, ragged board, scraped and chipped and very obviously well-loved. “Do you skate often?” 

Miguel shrugged, that shy movement that Robby was starting to notice he did more when they were alone. Like he didn’t want to brag, but… He grinned at Miguel and gave him an encouraging hand wave. 

“Come on, Diaz, don’t keep me in suspense,” he goaded. 

Miguel dropped the board onto the ground and put one foot on the end of it. “I used to skate to school and stuff sometimes,” he said. “I wasn’t really good at tricks or anything like that.” 

“Bullshit,” Robby replied. “Are you trying to hustle me? Tell me you can’t do an ollie and then bust out some crazy moves?” 

Miguel stepped onto the board, jostling a little when it shifted with his weight, and put his weight on his back foot. He popped the board up, let it flip once, and brought his feet back down. He landed and immediately took one foot off the board and planted it firmly on the ground. 

“That’s it,” he said. “That’s all I can do.” 

“A kickflip,” Robby said simply. “You can do a kickflip?”

“Is that what it’s called?” 

Robby rolled his eyes. “How are you –” he stopped, the words dying in his mouth. He could practically hear his father’s voice coming out of him, a parroting of the way he talked to Mr. LaRusso, affectionate and teasing but still somehow a little mean. 

“How am I what?” Miguel asked, his eyebrows raised expectantly. 

Would Miguel get freaked out if he realized that Robby was too much like his dad? Why would Miguel want to date someone who was similar to his sensei? That was…too weird, too complicated. 

“Nothing,” he shrugged, hopping onto his own board. “Want me to teach you some other tricks?” 

“I’m really rusty,” Miguel protested, like he hadn’t just done a picture perfect kickflip a moment ago. “Unless this is your way of injuring me to get me out of the next All-Valley." 

“Yes, Diaz,” Robby said sarcastically. “I lured you out here, to this very public skate park, so I could carry out a karate assassination.” To punctuate his words, another skater passed right between them, with shaggy green hair and pink shredded pants. “No one will ever know.” 

Miguel laughed, uproarious and without restraint, and Robby found himself, in the aftermath of the laugh, still smiling, like his muscles had forgotten that they could _stop now_ , dammit. 

“Okay, show me something,” Miguel prompted. 

“You gonna catch me if I fall?” Robby asked, his mind running through the stupid little tricks he knew, trying to decide if any of them would be appropriately impressive. 

“Course,” Miguel said, like it was nothing. 

Robby looked up at him, squinting in the sun, the wrinkles around his eyes deep with a smile, his hair blowing wildly in the wind. He smiled at him, and the little wrinkles deepened, even if the smile didn’t really change, and his heart thudded loudly in his chest. 

“Okay,” he said. “Watch me.” 

***

Hawk wondered if Demetri realized that they were really, truly alone for the first time since he cut his hair into a mohawk. Since the hawk tattoo. Since everything. Every conversation they had since then had been in public – in the mall, at parties, at Cobra Kai – like they couldn’t bear to be alone in the same room. 

But here they were. 

Demetri looked as calm as ever, his eyes carefully reading an old issue of _The Incredible Hulk_ – Hawk was holding the issue that came after, his eyes not really taking in the words or the pictures, his mind just running on a steady beat of _Demetri, Demetri, Demetri._

He was tapping his socked foot on the edge of the bed, leaning against the footboard while Demetri leaned against the wall, pillows stacked against the headboard, forgotten. The bedspread beneath them was dark blue with little bright green lines, thin and just light enough that Hawk could see them flashing when he closed his eyes. 

“Dude,” Demetri murmured without taking his eyes off the comic. “You trying to learn the drums?” 

“What?” 

“Then why are your feet doing that?” he asked. “I assumed you would be into metal music now, with the mohawk and all –”

He laughed humorlessly. “It’s punk, not metal –”

“So naturally you would learn to drum or something, and you use your feet for the bass drum –”

“Look, I stopped, okay?” Hawk said, a laugh still at the edge of his voice. “I am not learning the drums.” 

Demetri shrugged, like if he did it wouldn’t be a problem, he was just making conversation. Hawk looked down at the comic again, desperate to read it and escape his own thoughts. He was only on the second page. 

“Next,” Demetri said smartly, slipping the comic into its slip cover and holding out his hands for the one in Hawk’s hands. Hawk passed it over and reached for the next one without contradicting. 

A few minutes later, his foot was back at it. 

“Eli,” Demetri said firmly. “Here,” he reached over, grabbed Hawk’s leg, and pulled both of his feet and ankles onto his lap, so his legs were completely stretched out. “Relax,” he said firmly, pushing his message home by putting his hand over Hawk’s socked foot. 

He certainly was not relaxed, _thank you very much._

***

In Johnny’s experience, when someone invited you back to their place, that meant you were getting laid. It was an engraved invitation, a literal _come hither_ look put into words so you just couldn’t mistake it. 

Except when LaRusso said it, what he meant was that they were going to sit out in the garden and talk about their feelings. Which, as far as alone time went, was a major boner killer. 

“I’m not going to let you decide that we don’t need to talk about anything,” Daniel protested when Johnny called him a tease, pushing him lightly in the chest to put some space between them. “Because I know you, Johnny, you’re going to decide I said something I didn’t and use it as a reason to self-sabotage.” 

“If I wanted a therapist, I could’ve made out with someone else,” he grumped, mostly joking, and then Daniel was glaring at him and he was laughing under his breath. “Ugh, fine, LaRusso, what exactly do you want to talk about?” 

The sooner they finished talking, the sooner they could be…finished talking, he thought repetitively. 

“Well,” Daniel said, holding the word out for just a smidge too long. “What do you want from…this?” he asked, motioning between the two of them. 

“I thought we weren’t doing that?” Johnny asked, and Daniel swatted him in the arm, hard enough that he winced. “Okay, damn.” 

“Be serious for five minutes.” 

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed. “I like you, okay, that’s about as far as I’ve gotten.” 

“That’s fine,” Daniel reassured him, but the prick looked surprisingly smug, his face a little flushed. “I like you too.” 

“Oh my god, I feel like a teenage girl.” 

“I like you a little less now.” 

They laughed together for a moment before Daniel cleared his throat and Johnny realized they were going to get serious again, and dammit, he was already nervous. He already had a very much _‘don’t ask don’t tell’_ policy with his deeper feelings, so he was fundamentally on the back foot for this entire conversation. 

“When did you know?” Daniel asked, leaning back on the deck onto his elbows, like a lounging house cat. “That you liked men?” 

Johnny shrugged mutely. 

Daniel studied his stern profile. “I’m not going to make fun of you.” And then, when Johnny didn’t say anything, “I started fooling around with men after high school, you know, when I was supposed to be in college.” 

Johnny didn’t say anything, but he leaned back and listened. 

“It was all very…you know, discreet, and there were very few actual dates involved, but it was pretty easy for me to figure out that I liked…you know, both.” 

Of course it was fucking easy for LaRusso to figure out, like it just came to him naturally, that grace with which he approached almost anything until Johnny came into fuck it all up. He felt, momentarily, a little resentful. 

“Johnny?” 

“I used to have dreams about you,” he said, flatly, trying to take every ounce of emotion out of it. “Senior year. Like, helping you up out of the sand instead of kicking your ass, your stupid prom tux –” Daniel chuckled at that, but didn’t say anything, so Johnny pressed on. “And then I forgot, mostly. And I…you know, thought about it, but I couldn’t ever…say it. Not out loud, or to anyone. I didn’t want to get my ass kicked. Not in the eighties, or the nineties.” 

He sighed, and Daniel’s hand landed on his knee, reassuring and warm and still, mercifully silent. 

“These kids,” he said wistfully. “They can just _say it_ , you know? Well, most of them can.” He glanced over at Daniel, who hadn’t looked away from him yet, attentive and present and so damn pretty he thought he was going to fall over. “It makes me so angry, that I had nightmares, that I tried to get away from it, because I would’ve been…we could’ve been – killed.” 

“Yeah,” Daniel said, and his voice sounded a little thick. Johnny didn’t look, scared of what he’d see, but put his hand over his. 

“I’m happy for them,” he said. “I am, but I feel like I missed a lot.” His face was hot, his throat tight. He inhaled, the sound a lot like a sniff. “So, yeah, LaRusso, I haven’t exactly…done…this before.” 

“That’s okay,” Daniel said, and he was scooting closer, his leg folding over Johnny’s and wrapping an arm around his waist. “I can teach you some new tricks.” 

“Oh fuck off, LaRusso,” Johnny laughed, the tension eased and pushed away. He was grateful, painfully so, but he didn’t know how to say it, so he just kissed Daniel on the forehead and pulled him a little closer. “Does that mean you’re going to take me inside now?” 

“No,” Daniel said. “That means we’re going to go on a real date first.” 

“Come _on_ –”

“No,” Daniel insisted. “We’re going to do it right. Golf N Stuff, cruising in a car, parking at the beach. The whole deal. You are going to get the high school date experience, Johnny Lawrence.” 

“You know I went on dates in high school,” Johnny said flatly. “I wasn’t some loser –”

“Yeah, but you went out with _babes_ ,” Daniel replied. “Now you’re going with me.” 

“Still a babe,” Johnny shrugged. “No real difference.” 

Daniel flushed a bright, brilliant red, swatting away Johnny’s teasing hands. 

***

Aisha expected to feel more uneasy in her own room, considering. But when Sam had gone home, her mom had knocked lightly on her bedroom door and asked if she wanted to order some pizza, and the evening had proceeded the usual way – homework, pizza, music, and being largely left alone. 

She didn’t feel lonely, she felt grateful. Things going back to normal was the best possible scenario, wasn’t it? 

She’d sent a text off to Sensei Lawrence, letting him know that she was home and staying there, and he’d sent her back a middle finger emoji and a heart, whatever that meant. She hadn’t learned the sensei decoding language quite like Miguel had. So she sent back a laughing face and went back to her history homework. 

When her phone beeped, she thought it was Sensei Lawrence again. She ignored it, focused too much on the potato famine of Ireland, and didn’t look up at her phone again until it beeped again, and there was a rustling outside her window. 

She flipped the device over and the screen lit up with texts from Tory. 

_“Hey guess where I am?”_

_“Aisha.”_

_“Dude, seriously.”_

_“You’re ruining the surprise.”_

_“Okay fuck it is this trellis strong enough to hold me?”_

_“We’re going to find out.”_

“Oh shit,” Aisha muttered, jumping out of her chair and going to the window, where she could see Tory, fingernail tapping against the locked window, her grin wide and devilish. “I thought you were Sensei.” 

“Thank you?” Tory asked, carefully sliding in, closing the window behind her. “I didn’t know if you were on lockdown or not –”

“I don’t think so,” Aisha said breathlessly. Tory had come dressed for some covert mission – all black and tight, her little fingerless gloves on. “Sam was here earlier, and my mom seems to have calmed down, so.” 

“Yeah?” she asked, eyebrows going up. “Nice!” 

“Yeah,” Aisha said, wondering when she’d get her breath back. “You can uh…sit down anywhere,” she said, and Tory settled for plopping down on her bed, lying on her stomach, her shoes elevated. 

“Well I guess that means I don’t have to break you out of prison or anything,” Tory said, sighing, but she was smiling, and Aisha was smiling back at her. “Unless you want me to.” 

“No prison break necessary,” Aisha agreed. 

Tory grinned at her, a leaf stuck in her hair, and Aisha had to turn away to close her laptop, to try to make her face less…ridiculous. Not that Tory had mentioned anything, but Aisha still felt…giddy with her here. In her bedroom. On her _bed_. 

When she turned back around, the leaf was still in her hair, and Aisha chuckled. 

“You have uh…” she reached forward, carefully disentangling the leaf from Tory’s hair. “This.” 

“Oh,” Tory laughed, covering her face with her hands. “Embarrassing.” 

“Nah,” Aisha reassured her. “Casualty of parkour.” 

“Seriously,” Tory laughed. “I Romeo’d the hell out of that.” 

Aisha bit back her reply. Did that make her the Juliet? But Tory was smiling up at her, like she knew what she was thinking, and Aisha felt, not for the first time, like she might actually have a chance. 

“So, I meant to tell you this at the country club,” Tory began, sitting up on the bed, still carefully marking where her shoes went. “But we got interrupted.”

“Oh,” Aisha said, nerves creeping into her belly. 

“And I should have told you earlier, because it probably would’ve made you feel better, but I was a chicken shit, and I didn’t,” she said in a rush, and Aisha couldn’t figure out what she was talking about, but she was rambling, and Tory didn’t really ramble. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was…fake or something.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I’m…not straight,” Tory said. “But I – I don’t know – I don’t know what I am – you know?” 

Aisha exhaled, loud and relieved. “That’s…why would that make you fake?” 

“I don’t have…you know, a Pride flag or anything –”

“So?” Aisha asked. “That doesn’t make you any less. Besides,” she said, leaning forward. “I think the rainbow is for everyone.” 

“Shut up,” Tory laughed, tossing Aisha’s stuffed turtle at her from her bed. “I just…didn’t want to steal your thunder.” 

“Steal it,” Aisha said, laughing. “Seriously, take it. I don’t mind.” 

Tory smiled at her. “We can share.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally we get to the roller rink! Also we establish our final couple! Everyone else has been paired off, I wonder if you guys can guess who I'm adding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for an actual adult man hitting on a teenager in this chapter. If that kind of activity grosses you out, skip the last two sections!

For Aisha, Sundays were spent catching up on homework she’d procrastinated on throughout the week. She’d load up her extra-large coffee cup with her favorite chai tea and spend the day at her desk, typing away until her eyes ached. When she was finished, she’d watch something mindless on Netflix until she fell asleep. It wasn’t a routine so much as it was an accidental tradition. 

Except this Sunday, at around two in the afternoon, her phone was vibrating on her desk, where she’d left it sitting face-down. She scooped it up, glanced at Tory’s name on the screen, and answered. 

“You’re not out on the trellis again, are you?” she asked, her eyes going to the window, where she still had a few little twigs on the floor. She hadn’t picked them up yet – it felt like a reminder, a keepsake. 

Tory laughed. “I am not,” she said. “I figured next time I’ll go to the front door. Switch it up.” 

“Okay, so if you’re not here, what’s up?” Aisha asked, turning her eyes back to her homework. She had only one calculus problem left to figure out before she was finished. She’d been stuck on it for almost half an hour already, and Googling the answer hadn’t helped. 

“I was hoping you’d come meet me,” Tory said. “I um…I might have a surprise for you? But you have to promise not to hate surprises.” 

“Surprises are okay,” Aisha murmured nervously. “I guess.” 

“Cool, cool,” Tory said, and for the first time, Aisha detected a little bit of nerves in her voice. “Then can you come by my work?” she asked. “Pick me up?” 

“Sure,” Aisha said. “I’ll be there in fifteen, just let me try to finish this one damn calculus problem.” 

Tory huffed a laugh into the phone. “Okay, I’ll see you soon.” 

***

Tory tapped her fingernails on the bar, her eyes on her watch. Fifteen minutes had just passed – that meant Aisha would be here any minute. She still didn’t know how she was going to react to the whole-dojo-at-the-skating-rink thing; if she got angry, Tory was seriously considering planting herself in the middle of the rink during the Whip and waiting to die. 

“Stop being such a pussy,” Sensei Lawrence said from the other side of the bar, where he was using his unusually long arms to refill his own drink without Tory seeing. She shooed him away, throwing a stray straw in his direction as he retreated. “Aisha is cool, she’ll be fine with surprises.”

“Some people don’t like surprises,” Tory pointed out. 

“Yeah, but most of those surprises are shitty,” he retorted, as if that helped. Tory just chuckled and turned away, reaching for her vibrating phone in her back pocket.

“Okay, everyone she’s here,” she called out to the room. Everyone, in their various corners, paused and looked up at her. “Remember what I said. If I see _one of you_ laugh at her, you’re eating my foot. Understood?” 

“Yes, Sensei,” Miguel snorted from the floor, where he was tying his skates. Tory flung a lime wedge at him and went to the door. 

Aisha was waiting for her on the other side. “I thought this place was closed on Sundays,” she said. “I thought I saw Sensei’s –” Tory watched her eyes look past her and toward the rink, where Miguel was on his feet and spinning, giving Robby a high-five with every rotation. “What is this?” 

“Surprise?” Tory said, opening the door all the way. “I got Sensei to rent the place out on a Sunday for cheap so I can teach you how to skate.” 

“You –” Aisha let her pull her inside, closing the door tightly behind them and locking it. “You planned this?” 

Tory shrugged, feeling suddenly shy. “I mean…there wasn’t much to plan.” 

“The Miyagi-dos are here,” she said. 

“Yeah,” Tory said. “Some of them are your friends. And, you know, Miguel invited Robby, Hawk invited Demetri –”

“Wow,” Aisha said. 

Tory watched her facial expressions closely, mapping every change. “So…” she asked cautiously. “Are you mad?” 

Aisha turned back to her, a smile creeping over her face. “How could I be mad? This might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” 

Tory grinned, a giddy laugh escaping, and hooked her arm in Aisha’s. “Wait until you see the skates I picked out for you,” she gushed, throwing Sensei Lawrence a surreptitious thumbs up. “I found the best ones in your size and set them aside. Some of the skates here suck.” 

Aisha dropped her head to her shoulder. “You’re too nice to me.” 

“I’m mean to everyone else,” Tory reassured her. “I have the goodness in my heart left over just for you.” 

***

Sam held tightly to Moon’s hand, feeling the front wheel of her skate skid against the ground. “How are you so good at this?” she asked, frustrated, as Moon came to a graceful stop to help her keep her balance. “I’m supposed to be good at balance.” 

Moon shrugged. “I roller skate for fun,” she said. “It’s mostly about going with the flow. Accept where the momentum takes you and you’ll fall less often.” 

Sam scowled at her, but she was still almost smiling. “I’ve never been good about going with the flow.” 

“That’s okay,” Moon said, gently pulling her along. “I can help with that.” 

Sam squeezed her hand and kept skating, her other hand on the wall. “Maybe I’m the one who needed lessons.” 

“I’ll teach you,” Moon soothed. “Just trust me. And go with the flow.” She released Sam’s hand and skated in front of her, turning on one skate to go backwards, holding out her hands. “Come on,” she encouraged. “Let go of the wall and trust your karate training. You can balance on one foot for spinning kicks, you can balance on two skates.” 

“You’re showing off,” Sam whined, taking her hand off the wall before panicking and grabbing it again. 

Moon skated further away and stopped, her hands still out. “Skate to me and I’ll get you a milkshake,” she said. “As a reward.” 

Sam smiled, narrowing her eyes at Moon in determination. “Chocolate?” she asked. 

“Chocolate banana,” Moon amended. “Your favorite.” 

Sam tilted her head at her. “How did you know that?” she asked. “I thought only my dad knew.” 

“That you like bananas?” Moon asked, hands on her hips. “I pay attention.” 

Sam shook her head, the movement of her head alone shifting her balance on the skates. “Okay, okay, I’m going,” she promised, sliding forward a foot before she took her hand off the barrier. She glided forward, the movement far less graceful than literally anything Moon had done since she put on her skates, and kept going. 

“Balance,” she told herself. “Balance.” 

“Go with the flow,” Moon supplied helpfully, her voice closer than Sam expected. “Also, looking up from the ground might help.” 

Sam glanced up in time to see Moon holding her arms open before she skated right into her, her relatively low speed only pushing Moon back a few inches, wobbling them but not knocking them over. Moon pulled her head back but didn’t let go. 

“I knew you could do it.” 

***

“I don’t know why I agreed to this,” Demetri mumbled from the floor, taking Eli’s hand that easily pulled him upright again. “I know that I’m bad at skating. Why do I like to punish myself?” 

“Because you wanted to hang out with me,” Eli said, giving him a smug smile. “Obviously.” 

Demetri rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he muttered, windmilling his arms to stay upright. “I’m also a sucker for free things.” 

He caught Eli by the shoulder and held on, as if that would help keep him up, wobbling violently when Eli wrapped his arm around his waist to secure him. He leaned into him, realizing as he did just how much taller he was, how Eli’s mohawk was eye level with him instead of his face. He looked down at him and caught Eli watching him in return. 

“What?” Demetri asked, trying to ignore the swoop in his stomach. 

“What what?” he asked, looking down. 

Demetri looked down at the ground. “I wish I could take one of these off,” he said. “That way when I’m about to fall, I can just put one foot down. It seems like a flaw in the roller skate design, frankly, and I don’t know –”

Eli released him and dropped down to one knee, his fingers deftly working at the meticulous double knot Demetri always tied his shoes with. 

“Wait, no, you don’t have to –”

Eli pulled the laces loose and looked up at him, grinning. “Try it,” he encouraged. “Put your hand on my shoulder.” 

Demetri obliged, his foot slipping easily out of the other skate. He put his socked foot on the slippery ground, the other skate moving only minimally, and pulled Eli to his feet. He was holding the other skate in his hand, looking proud. 

“I’m realizing that this idea stems from the assumption that I can balance on one foot,” Demetri pointed out. 

Eli looked down at the uneven skates. “Why don’t I just pull you?” he asked, tugging on Demetri’s arm. Demetri let his arms slide through Eli’s hands until he was just holding his hands, and tightened his grip. 

“Pull, then,” he challenged, yelping in surprise when Eli took off backwards, yanking him gracelessly along. “Okay, pull less, pull less!” 

***

“Do you want to skate?” Daniel asked, leaning back into Johnny’s arm in the corner booth, watching Tory gently try to coax Aisha to let go of the wall. He turned his eyes to Johnny’s profile, a soft smile on his face while he watched his son. “Do you…skate?” 

“Not in years,” Johnny admitted, looking down at him. “Not really looking to break a hip tonight, LaRusso.” 

Daniel chuckled, taking his hand off the table to drop it on Johnny’s leg. The other man jumped, almost slamming his knee on the underside of the table. “Can’t have you breaking anything,” he murmured, as if his hand weren’t creeping up the expanse of Johnny’s denim-clad leg. 

“Quit writing checks your ass can’t cash, LaRusso,” Johnny mumbled out of the corner of his mouth. “Unless you’re trying to get freaky in a roller rink bathroom.” 

“Johnny!” 

Johnny shrugged, unrepentant. “I’m too old to be teased.” 

“We’ll see,” Daniel promised, finding a tender spot on Johnny’s leg and squeezing. “Maybe I’ll have to teach you patience.” 

“I can literally pick you up –”

“And?” 

“And if you keep this up, I might just pick you up and carry you off like a caveman,” Johnny pointed out flatly. “Can’t stop me.” 

“I can tickle you,” Daniel said mischievously. 

Johnny narrowed his eyes. “I regret telling you anything.” 

Daniel shrugged, grinning. “Besides, maybe there’s a reward in it for you if you behave,” he murmured into Johnny’s ear, leaning into his side. 

Johnny pressed a kiss to the top of his head and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, LaRusso,” he said. He looked up and caught sight of someone he didn’t recognize. “Is that one of your kids?” he asked, tilting his head in the kid’s direction. He didn’t look like a high school kid. 

“Nope,” Daniel said. 

Johnny hummed, an instinct that he couldn’t identify telling him unequivocally to keep an eye on the newcomer. “Okay, getting freaky in the bathroom has been put on hold.” 

Daniel rolled his eyes. 

***

“Okay, okay, try this –” Robby dropped carefully down to the wood floor on his knees and jumped up, pulling the skates underneath himself at the last second, balancing on the rubber stopper. “Ooohhhh, balance.” 

Miguel chuckled. “Okay, okay, brace me, then,” he said, mimicking Robby’s stance. He’d been hoping that Robby was at least a decent skater, so he could pretend to hold onto him so they wouldn’t fall, but Robby was too good. He should have guessed based on his skateboarding skills. 

He waited until Robby was behind him, arms out, ready to catch him if he fell. He jumped, one skate catching on the floor before he was balanced and tumbled backward into Robby’s waiting embrace, knocking them both onto the ground. 

“Keene, Diaz, stop trying to kill yourselves,” Tory said, holding carefully to Aisha’s arm as they moved slowly along. “You’re making everyone else look bad.” 

“You’re doing great, Aisha,” Miguel called out, leaning heavily back into Robby’s open legs. Robby’s hands were on his shoulders, loose and comfortable. “Kicking ass.” 

“No mercy,” she said with a smile, but her brow was pinched, like she was concentrating. Tory grinned at her. 

“One more lap and then I let go,” she said. “Think you can do it?” 

“You’ll go with me?” Aisha asked. 

Miguel watched Tory’s determined face soften. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Yeah, of course.” 

“Then let’s do it.” 

Tory glanced over at him and rolled her eyes at Miguel’s exaggerated thumbs up. Robby chuckled, the laugh vibrating through his body. 

“They’re a nice couple,” he said when they were a decent length away. “Aisha keeps Tory…” 

“Soft?” Miguel supplied, shifting to stand up. “Yeah, I think they’ll be cute.” 

“Yeah,” Robby said quietly. “Do you want to take a normal lap? Without the tricks?”

“You gonna hold my hand?” Miguel asked, still on the floor as Robby climbed up to stand. 

Robby’s face flushed pink, but he held out his hand to help him up. “’Course, Diaz.” 

***

Tory stepped out of the rink and skated over to the bar, where Travis was standing, his new uniform still freshly pressed and unstained. “Can I get two waters, Trav?” she asked. 

“You gonna hang out with me after this is over?” he asked, leaning down to the cooler to grab two bottles of water. “Or are you gonna blow me off about that, too?” 

Behind them both, Johnny turned his eyes away from the rink to find Travis and watched. 

“I’m not blowing you off,” Tory said, taking the two bottles of water. “I just never said I was gonna hang with you.” 

“Come on, Tor, don’t be like that,” Travis said, sticking out his lower lip in mock hurt. “We used to be cool.” 

“No, you used to sell me cigarettes behind the roller rink,” Tory pointed out. “And for that, I am grateful.” 

“So what, we aren’t friends?” Travis asked. 

Tory popped the top on one of the bottles of water and sipped. “As of about three days ago, we are now co-workers,” she pointed out. “You’re a cool dude, Travis, but I don’t really know you. If you wanna be my friend, quit acting like hitting on high school girls is the move.” 

She patted the bar and scooted away. “Put the water on my tab,” she said. 

She gave Johnny an embarrassed half-smile on her way back to Aisha’s side. 

***

“That guy was hitting on Tory,” Johnny hissed into Daniel’s ear. Daniel went still and turned his eyes toward the bar, where Sam and Moon were sipping from the same milkshake, Moon’s legs thrown over Sam’s lap. 

“That guy looks like…twenty-five,” he pointed out. 

“Yeah, what the hell is he doing hitting on a sixteen year old girl?” Johnny muttered. 

Daniel took his arm. “Don’t get all fired up yet,” he said. “Tory can take care of herself. And she won’t thank you if you get her fired.” 

Johnny heaved a breath through his nose and sighed. “Fine. I’m going to get a soda. Do you want a water?” 

“Yes please,” Daniel said, offering his lips for a kiss. Johnny obliged and stepped over to the bar, where the sleazy adult (his nametag said Travis) was talking on the phone. 

“Yeah, yeah, but you know what they say – high school girls, easy targets,” he laughed, a whiny, false sound that set Johnny’s teeth on edge. He tightened his hands around the edge of the bar. Do not punch him, he thought firmly. Do not punch him. 

“Yo, Screech,” he tapped the bar. “Coke and a water.” 

“Right away, champ,” Travis said over his shoulder, reaching into the cooler for a bottle of water. He returned his attention to the phone. “Yeah, but she’s got a fat ass, you know? I’d hate to let that go to waste.” 

He passed the water over to Johnny, who snatched it out of his hand and stalked away. 

“Yo, you forgot your soda!” 

He didn’t answer. He slammed the bottle of water on the table, making Daniel jump. 

“What’s…going on?” he asked, big brown eyes wide. 

“That jerkoff is over there talking about Tory like…” Johnny tightened his hands into fists. “Talking about her ass, like she’s a piece of fucking meat.” 

“Okay,” Daniel said, reaching for one of Johnny’s tightened fists. “Okay, we can report him to his superiors,” he reasoned. “Get him fired for sexually harassing an underage girl.” 

“He deserves to get punched in the neck,” Johnny said firmly. 

“Agreed,” Daniel slid out of the booth and stood, putting his other hand on Johnny’s chest. “But if you hit him, you’ll go to jail. And he can press charges, right?” 

“Not if he can’t speak –”

“John, there are other ways of protecting Tory that don’t involve breaking that guy’s teeth,” Daniel said soothingly. “We can take care of it.” 

“And if he hit on your daughter?” Johnny asked. “You would’ve crane kicked his ass to kingdom come by now.” 

“No,” Daniel said softly. “I’d let her do it.” 

That shook a laugh out of Johnny, albeit a quick one. He patted his chest. 

“It’s very admirable that you want to protect her,” he said. “So protect her in a smart way. I can help.” 

“Promise?” Johnny asked, looking down at Daniel’s hand, small and tan, on his broad chest. 

“Yeah,” Daniel said like it was nothing. “Yeah, I promise.”


End file.
